open » action

[mucked]

Who: Peggy + you
Broadcast: N/A
Action: Starstruck, Iskaulit
When: All day.

[ as compelling an attraction as the asteroids can be, peggy wakes up on what could have been april 21st and promptly decides that a captain's work is never done. despite a short holiday on one of the less glitzy asteroids, she storms her way back onto the starstruck around midday. she'd have preferred to be back earlier, of course, but a certain stubborn steve rogers had delayed her more than usual this morning.

because, you see, today is peggy carter's birthday. and up until recently, she'd thought this particular piece of sensitive intel might have remained under wraps. certainly, she's never announced it to the fleet (not had it announced for her) but over the last year there'd been an influx of individuals who might otherwise be privy to that sacred knowledge.

and so surviving the day becomes a little trickier. her first precaution is to not even address the network -- indeed, she hasn't got her device with her at all. so if some friend or ally does try and contact peggy, they may be forced to seek her out in person instead. after all, it's rare that she should persist with so much radio silence. visitors and crew on the starstruck will find her in her quarters trying very hard to dodge the likes of both steve rogers and edwin jarvis. and trying to busy herself with 'paperwork', though closer inspections might prove she's doing little more than working on a few hobby ciphers. and let's not forget the copious trips to the kitchen for tea, of course.

for visitors and crew: it seems steve's left the odd 'hint' and trinket around the ship. flowers here, candles there, and there's at least one cake chilling in the kitchen. perhaps more. when asked about it, the captain feigns innocence.

later, when that diversion fails, she heads to the iskaulit. first to the firing range, where she squeezes off just enough shots to counterbalance the creeping sensation of domesticity. and that done, she stops by the space bar for a drink of whatever-the-devil most resembles whiskey. ]

Comments

[mucked]

[ peggy shakes her head. ]

Is it, though? [ my birthday. ] We're not on Earth. We hop planets every month -- but even a 'month' is an artificial construct around here. Perhaps I haven't got a birthday any longer.

[pulcher]

Everybody has a birthday at some point, it's not something you lose.

[ and besides: ]

I had a birthday. I even remember someone giving me a gift on my birthday. So if we count from the day you've decided it's my birthday then today is yours.

[ logical, right? ]

[mucked]

Fine -- [ she nudges her drink aside and leans in, elbows on the table and shoulders tilted forward. ] Today's my birthday. Providing we count time spent in the fleet? I'm twenty-eight today. Admitted and confessed.

Happy, now?

[pulcher]

[ oh, well, if that's how it's gonna be. he sighs, shakes his head but after a moment leans in, taking the exact same position just opposite of her, narrow elbows and narrow shoulders but just as determined. ]

Very much so, yes.

[mucked]

Good. [ her brows raise. ] I'm glad. It means we don't need to say anything else on the matter.

[pulcher]

Maybe one more thing.

[ he does bite back his grin this time. ]

[mucked]

I'll make no promises.

[ but speak up now, steve rogers, or forever hold your peace. ]

[pulcher]

Well, it's very important.

[ but, tragically: ]

and it'll have to wait a bit.

[ until she sees her gift, that is. ]

[mucked]

Good Lord. [ she sighs, steadying her chin on her palm. ] You try my patience so.

[pulcher]

Me?

[ come now, surely not. ]

Maybe a little.

[mucked]

A little? A little every damned day. [ she has a way of making a complaint sound like a love sonnet. ] Some day soon I'll find myself skint on patience. Utterly bankrupt on the stuff. All because of you.

[pulcher]

That would be a day. You don't have that much of it to begin with.

[ he dares to state this fact before moving backwards in case she'll try to swat at his arm. ]

[mucked]

[ we can't all be saints like you, rogers. ]

Gee, I wonder why not. [ but she knows she's being crabby. it's been a strange, wonderful, but ultimately off-putting day. peggy tries to relax -- sinking back in her chair. ] Can't be that horrible. After all, you stick around.

[pulcher]

Not horrible.

[ and more truthfully and far more earnestly: ]

Not even a little bit.

[mucked]

[ she drains her glass. perhaps he's paced himself better with his beer, but regardless of how much he's got left? she glances at the door and mutters a soft suggestion: ] Maybe you and I should call it a night. Hm?

[pulcher]

Yeah.

[ there isn't even the slightest objection on his part. she wasn't wrong, not even a little, it's her company that interested him more than anything else the place has to offer, low alcohol tolerance or not. ]

It's been quite a day.

[ it's not that easy, following her about and leaving all those little trinkets without getting caught. ]

[mucked]

For you? I imagine it's been quite the month. I'd nearly stripped the Starstruck down to her bones and never found a single present before today. [ ... ] Did you outsource?

[ and if he doesn't rush to finish his beer, she might steal it for herself. ]

[pulcher]

Nope.

[ lord help him, but he's proud. ]

I simply moved it all a couple of times every day. Been a bit of a project.

[ especially once the glitch settled in and he wasn't as tall. ]

[mucked]

Clearly, I've left you with too much time on your hands. [ alright, then. she takes his beer bottle and tilts it back -- finishing it in one go. ] It's all my fault.

[pulcher]

[ he watches her with a rather fond smile. ]

Yeah, look where it got you.

[ on the receiving end of birthday gifts. ]

Gonna have to be more careful next year.

[ and he would have to be far more creative. ]

[mucked]

[ next year. she'd never own up to the butterflies in her stomach those two words just inspired. instead, she pushes out her chair and waits for him to follow. ]

I'll be certain to start thinking up a project about mid-March.

[pulcher]

Just don't make me catalog the preserves again. Last time it took five days.

[ and they were all dull. he paid his dues on that front. ]

Five days of shuffling through space-peaches.

[ if by chance, his fingers brush against hers as he walks to her chance. well. purely accidental. ]

[mucked]

[ her smallest finger snags his. then, over the following few heartbeats, she gives in to holding his hand entirely. happy birthday, indeed. ]

It will be a yearly chore, you realize.

[pulcher]

Oh, come on, Peggy.

[ fingers laced, he takes to brushing a thumb over her knuckles even as he complains: ]

We're labeling them on the go these days.

[mucked]

Anything to keep you tied up and busy through each and every spring, darling.

[ the caress across the back of her hand comes with a certain thrill -- it's such a little thing, really, but it's so public. so normal. ]