driftfleet | ship mingle: february is for starstruckers.

[ 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.

These things are a process, you know.

[ his tone is light and more than a tiny bit distracted. ]

You can't jump straight to it, you need a bit of time for observation.

[ perfectly professional only that he's not only observing, he's exploring - her sides first but after that, her back and shoulders, open palms rather than ghosting fingertips. ]

[ she's familiar, now, with the way he gets under her guard: he starts with light touches that give way to whole hands. one palm skates her spine and peggy leans forward -- and, after first nudging aside the draped towel, she kisses his shoulder in an effort to hide the way her eyes flutter shut. the heat felt earlier in the afternoon hadn't abated; it had only been curtailed. however briefly. ]

Observation. [ she echoes, her voice betraying an attempt to sound skeptical. peggy is quick to remind herself (silently, with a firm open-palmed squeeze low on his waist) that he's just about as nearly-naked as she is. ] I know your quicker to remember details than that, Steve. You'll have to try some other excuse.

You can't rush art. I'm taking this very seriously.

[ but his words fade into a low, slow exhale at her touch and his hands move down her spine and over hips and thighs, down her legs until they find her knees. He presses a kiss to her nape. ]

What if I miss something? Can't have that.

[ -- there is a glorious half-step of difference between getting into a comfortable tangle under the bedclothes back on the starstruck and what's happening now. deliberate, targeted exploration. her back arches beneath his hands. a muscle in her thigh first twitches, then relaxes. he's winning; she doesn't mind. ]

You might convince yourself with a line like that one. You won't convince me. [ and yet she actively encourages his diversion, it seems, when she climbs into his lap. better to sit on him than on the pebbled and inconsistent ground. she twists in the opposite direction, instead letting her shoulders settle against his chest.

peggy wraps his arms around her and lifts one hand to her mouth for a brief kiss. ]

Damn.

[ but there isn't a shade of disappointment there not when she turns in his arms and settles against him. He sighs, breath skirting along the damp skin where her neck meets her shoulder. ]

Seems like I'm out of excuses.

[ nothing left to mask a rather obvious truth, his free hand moving from her navel and up until it is stopped by fabric. ]

[ and for a beat or three she doesn't say anything at all. this is something worth savouring -- a moment that's intimate and impossible. if she (for just a moment) scrunches her eyes more tightly shut to stave off any wayward emotions, it's only because days like these are precisely what she'd thought she'd never get to experience. not with him, at any rate. and he makes a world of difference. a day like this truly strips away any thought of the past tense, and of things lost. opportunities gone.

she sits a little taller with every inch his hand tracks upwards -- breath catching the whole way. it's been a few months since the hotel debacle. they'd started sharing a bed and she'd started relaxing a little more around him. and he'd started laying claim to her mornings. she knows they're doing all of this backwards -- and part of her doubts they'll get very far, even tonight. but the possibility is thrilling enough.

peggy bites down on her smile. the air is warm enough, but she shivers all the same. obvious truths, indeed. ]

You're not about to say something idiotic and inappropriate about honour -- yours or mine?

[ never letting it go. ]

No ma'am.

[ that was an idiotic mistake indeed but not one that he will ever repeat again not even in jest - she's armed, after all.

He does, however, chuckle when she brings it up and turns his head to kiss her shoulder. ]

Not gonna say a damn thing.

[ honestly, it shouldn't make her heart race so readily when he deploys a ma'am. but it does -- and in response she seems to melt against him. the quick dip the lake worked exactly as intended: washing away inhibitions and hang-ups with more ease and less sleaze than a bottle of bourbon.

peggy reaches down and slides her fingertips along his thighs -- curling them over the round of his knee. like a sovereign sitting on a throne. ]

Smart. You're learning.

[ it's an overwhelming sort of intimacy, the kind that leaves goosebumps on the skin just beneath her fingertips, that has her lean into him like she does. One hand settles beneath her breast, at the exact spot where he can feel her heart beats, the other tilts her chin just enough so he could kiss her, deep but short, merely a sample. ]

If I say anything, you'll call me a sap.

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