driftfleet | ( open ) may-mingling for those struck by stars

A pity Sam isn't here, I bet he could have done a good job with it.

[ he's laughing as takes his place to her left. That's one hell of a mental image. ]

Could have called him and asked for a favor.

Not that I care to entertain this madness much further, [ she disclaims while they prowl the halls together, ] but what would you have had the poor man write?

[ -- be still her loving and curious heart. ]

Nothing much.

[ but his smile says otherwise. There would have been a thousand and one things to consider. but she is not wrong, they are all much more personal when he whispers them in her ear, ducking, leaning towards her as if to tell her a secret mid-walk. ]

Maybe I would just wish my best girl a happy Tuesday.

[ oh, heaven help peggy keep her stride straight and her balance impeccable. always a challenge when he dares to get close and ply a whisper near her ear. she glances to her left, eyeing him with equal parts warmth and dismay. ]

I suppose that's not so bad. [ so long as it remains hypothetical. ]

See? Maybe I can still surprise you.

[ sometimes honest simplicity is the way to go. With peggy, it seems to work just fine. Not enough to disarm her, to undo her careful posture her tone, but just enough for her to look at him just so. ]

You know they're probably all going to wear dresses with skulls on them.

[ he warns her as they near the room. What. It's a rock concert. ]

They may. I won't.

[ which might rub against the grain of a good undercover mission, but she's loathe to try too hard reveal herself in a huff off too much effort. ]

Some styles are classic for a reason. And frankly, I didn't much like any of the dresses I saw in the shops. One of mine will have to do.

[ -- not least of all because she doubts they can afford to buy something new for both of them. best to save what they have for his suit. ]

Probably because everything here is weird. I don't get why they keep bringing up flamingos.

[ very odd, indeed. He follows her inside, flopping backwards on the bed. Maybe with some luck he could tempt her for a proper rest after this. ]

You said there were two of 'em?

[ a quiet nod.

two dresses, yes, and both hanging from the top of her locker on hangers. but before she can put either of them on, she's got to take her current outfit off. so, nudging the door shut, she starts in on unbuttoning her shirt. ]

I'm afraid I can probably explain the flamingos.

Mm?

[ not the most intelligent of questions but he's more focused on undone a few of those buttons. His mind wanders to the last time he got to do exactly that. He seems to realize, belatedly, how distracted he must appear and so he sits up, gives her his full attention. ]

What about them?

In offloading all of his in the last system, Mister Jarvis may have influenced a few trends.
[ peggy explains while shrugging out of her blouse. there is, of course, a sharp pleasure to be taken in steve's distraction -- but she doesn't seek to push it. nor exploit it. not today.

and so, much like the blouse, she dispenses with her skirt just as clinically. just as quickly. ] He's a veritable taste-maker.

-- Doesn't he hate them?

[ the flamingos, that is. He tries not to smile even though it's a little bit funny. Poor fella. ]

One trend we could live without.

He does. Vehemently.

[ peggy, as confident as though she was still wearing clothing, crosses the room to where both dresses hang expectantly. easing dark red velvet off the hanger, she shimmies her way into a an option that is both a little daring and a little classic.

who needs skull and bones, it seems, when you're wearing a nearly-backless dress? ]

Over here, [ she orders. ] There's not a lot of zip on this one -- but it's a pain in the arse to reach for.

[ this entire ordeal is both fascinating and also just a bit of a torment. a year has come and gone and he is still looking at her as though this is the first time he's looking at at her. ]

Let me see.

[ tall and broad shouldered as he is, his fingers are sure and gentle, lingering over her skin for a second or two before pulling the zipper upwards. ]

Here we go.

[ he smiles, honest and just about head over heels in love. ]

You look beautiful, Peggy.

[ something in his voice tugs a smile onto her lips. easy, and affectionate. a year is just long enough to make her forget what it felt like to miss him. and although peggy won't admit it, the dress she's wearing just now is the same one she wore at a christmas party the last time steve was in the fleet. peggy won't admit it, but she might see that day as the one when their reunion truly began.

(all the more fitting to wear it this weekend, she supposes.)

she steps back, brushing her palms across the black beadwork and smoothing the velvet against her thighs. ]

Too much? [ she queries. ] Or perhaps not enough? I aim to look the part.

[ beautiful's an easy verdict to get from him. he'd promised as much himself. but peggy wants to use this party as more than just a good time. there's intel to be had; she'll need a convincing outfit to get to it. ]

[ he seems to be both helpless and fascinated, gesturing in her general direction. ]

It's - no. It's just right.

[ he really is a bad at this, it would seem. ]

Whatever part it may be, I can't see this not working for it.

Just right, hm? Who are you, Goldilocks? [ a tip of her hand toward the second dress still waiting. ] I take it I don't need to try the other one on.

[ not least of all because the other one is just the same one she'd worn at new years, due to be recycled. peggy can't afford a new dress this week; not after her stupid gesture of buying him small shirts drained her bank account. ]

You asked.

[ he looks over at the other one and then back to her. it's the color maybe, that finally does him in. ]

I don't know, I'm kinda sold on this one.

[ sold, indeed. to be sitting here rating dresses, of all things to do on an anniversary. ]

[ oh? ]

What sold you?

[ -- unfair, perhaps, to ask. especially with a look in her eye that suggests it's not innocently asked. but peg turns to see herself in the mirror leaning above her desk -- twisting at the waist to gain another angle, another look, another view. ]

-- I like the color.

[ among various other things that he feels should be a discussion at the moment if things are to remain practical as they are and not escalate farther. he's still looking at her, out of the corner of his eye, shrugging a bit, appearing casual. ]

It suits you.

Of course it does. [ she's under no impressions to the contrary. peggy wouldn't have bought the dress in the first place had it not suited her -- that isn't how her wardrobe works. ] But alright. I'll go with this one.

[ when, almost too delighted: ] Now we know what you'll need to match.

Need to what?

[ he, apparently under the ( false ) impression that the chores of the day are over, had already eased himself for a bit of a rest, one arm resting behind his head and over the head. ]

I doubt they'll really care about that.

[ entirely unconcerned, it would seem. ]

You are my date, aren't you?

[ she raises her arms -- attempting (futilely, perhaps) to undo the zipper on her own now that the decision has been made. best save the dress for the weekend. ]

So you can't go in denims.

Why not?

[ a groan. he knew there was a catch, there's always a catch when the mood is this merry. ]

Oh come on, Peggy, no one would care what I'd be wearing. Judging by how they dress around here, it'd probably be considered as too formal -

[ and, mid-rant, he shifts and reaches over to help her. ]

So -- [ dear dear steve rogers, it's time you learned not to paint yourself into tidy little corners outlined in red lipstick ] -- you're saying you shouldn't err on the side of formal. The dress is too much. I should pick something else.

[ she leans into his help, head turning just enough to catch sight of him over her shoulder. ]

I never said that.

[ oh no. there won't be any way out of this one. he eases down the zipper, looks up at her with a bit of a long-suffering sigh. ]

You'd wear this one again. I won't be wearing anything too formal ever again. It'd be a waste. What I have will see us through it.

[ but even as he argues his point, he's already accepting the fact that it's not going to work. ]

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject