driftfleet | everybody's starstruck in june.

Entry tags:

everybody's starstruck in june.

Who: starstruck crew & visitors
Broadcast: n/a
Action: aboard the ship
When: june

[ another month; another mingle. but there are changes in the air! the starstruck has some fresh crew to boast of, as well as a spiffing new lounge. things have been difficult, lately -- the common area might make for a great place to decompress and socialize with your fellow starstruckers.

after all, it seems the captain's gone and requisitioned max's record player. for the first week in june, it'll be returned again and again to the new lounge. good luck hiding it from her, rockatanksy.

ready steady go! ]

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[ well, in for a pound? ]

So did you.

[ in for a penny. ]

[ a pause, he considers his options and chooses a safe route, ]

seems like everyone did lately. I'm kinda glad Hank and Raven left together.

[ the same is true for pietro and wanda. sometimes it's kinder not that he thinks atroma are very big on kindness. ]

Their whole team seemed to have vanished at once.

[ charles and erik, too. ]

Do you think it's a coincidence?

[ -- to witness great swathes, whole chunks of a social architecture, be wiped out? peggy has a few painful losses she's nursing. but, for her part, she's not mentioned a single one. at best, she might have looked a little melancholic when she finished the last piece of shortbread from the last batch stefan had brought her.

she'd rather let the world believe herself unmoved by these losses. she'd learned how to wear grief with dignity. hide it under grace. ]

No. Nothing is. I don't know why they do what they do but none of it is accidental.

[ it's not the first nor the last time he'd catch himself being grateful that through it all, despite it all, she's still here. He reaches over, takes her hand in his. An anchor, a reason to breath a little more easily. ]

[ for once, her eyes duck his. instead? she focuses on their hands. joined; twined. peggy shakes her head. ]

Do you ever worry that -- maybe -- they know who we are before we're taken? [ peggy gives her head a little shake, as if she can't quite articulate the problem. ] That they have some knowledge of us before we arrive. Know who we know, who we miss, who we'd long to see...

[ -- did they take him because they'd already taken her? was that part of their design? ]

Peggy.

[ he doesn't try and coax her to look at him. He runs his thumb over her knuckles, tries to see what she's trying to articulate. Whatever it is, it's bothering her. ]

If that's why I'm here, I'm still grateful for that.

[ grateful is much the same word she'd use. nevertheless, she wonders whether that makes them a bit complacent -- too willingly to see the gift horse, see its mouth, and obediently avert their eyes. ]

I'll save my gratitude for the day we're taken at the same time. [ maudlin, maybe. she'd not intended to indulge her own darkness but! here she is. doing just that. ] Should we be so lucky.

If we can't.

[ he hates talking about it, hates it so very much but at perhaps it's one of those things that must be said once before they're pushed out of the way. ]

If we won't be, I hope it's you.

[ who leaves first. He said his most difficult of goodbyes already. It'll be a bit easier releasing her to go live a long life than carrying her at the end of her days. ]

[ peggy isn't easily given to tears. and nor is she, now. but there's a wealth of emotion captured in her expression and she's acutely aware of the public space they're sharing. she gives her head a little shake. ]

No -- God, no. Let's not have this argument.

[ the one where she replies she hopes it's him, instead. ]

I know.

[ what she will say and how none of them shall change their minds, not about this. He brings her palm to his lips, presses a kiss there ]

Go on choose another one.

[ another song. A finer distraction. ]

[ she glances at the record player. and then at the gulf between them. peggy's cheeks puff; her mouth puckers. with a shake of her head, she throws a certain level of caution to the wind. it's been an exhausting week on so many levels. everything with the atroma; new crew; max describing to her how he's prepared to die.

peggy needs a win. she craves a win. ]

Doesn't break any rules if we dance, does it?

[ there's just enough space between the mismatched furniture, she thinks. ]

Not a one.

[ and her hand is already in his. It's easier to keep holding it when he rises up, book forgotten. He waits for her to find her feet and wraps an arm around her waist when she does.

Funny, he's still not a great dancer but he is that much better thanks to his time here. Of all the things to improve. ]

[ she stretches a hand against the back of his shoulder. otherwise, her fingers curl against his palm. as dances go, this one starts prim and proper. they've got a bit of space between them but it's doomed to wan as the moment wears on.

she looks up at him with a flick of her eyes; her chin doesn't lift. he could be the most terrible dance partner she's ever had (he isn't) and she would still love dancing with him more than any other person imaginable. ]

I don't know the music; we'll have to feel out the steps as we go.

It'll have to be your job. What I do best is look at you and try and do the same thing.

[ half joking and half truthful. It turns out to be a little easier than he had imagined, a slow sway to a tune, a little faster when the tempo changes and lifts. He's a little better at this when not surrounded by other people. ]

[ it's lovely, this. just them; alone. and she knows that someone might walk into the lounge at any moment. there's no sin to be found turning, slow and sweet, to some unheard of song. peggy knows she might feel a twist of embarrassment if someone did walk in -- but just now, it's worth the risk. ]

If only you made a concerted effort to learn -- [ she chides him in a gentle voice. the corners of her words are rounded; shockingly blunted. ] You would be a force.

[ one to be reckoned with. ]

[ it's the sort of moment that moves in a manner that isn't physical. a dance has been a bit of a metaphor for a whole world that he and her lost. perhaps that's why, many dances later, the act itself still brings a sense of victory.

in a way, the music hardly matters. ]

Well, you know, I don't think anyone is giving lessons around here.

[ inch by inch, decorum slips. peggy finds herself leaning into him -- until, quite intentionally, her head sits against his chest. she can feel his breath when it fills his lungs. her fingers, curled first against his palm, now stretch and lace themselves between his knuckles. ]

I'll show you how.

[ she'd promised, after all. speaking the words might feel a bit like picking at scabs, but she doesn't much mind the pain just now. ]

[ there are certain moments, good and painful both, that linger and remain. those words, achingly familiar are clear now. last time he heard them, they were muffled by heavy static. for all that his story has been told and retold, this one exchanged has been kept secret, his and hers, one of the only parts of the story that wasn't claimed by history.

they're private, they're theirs for all the sadness they spark. steve's arm tightens only a bit around her, his lips find her forehead. ]

alright.

[ and, attempting to draw a smile, he asks ]

should I add that to the new list, then?

[ his first 'lesson', if this can ever be considered such, is rather a poor one. a bad example of a dance, with their lines colliding and peggy not caring much for the rhythm attendant to the song. she's far too busy simply enjoying sharing the space with him. she sways more to the beat of his heart than to anything else. ]

Put it right in the first slot. [ she tells him. ] Top priority.

[ he's rather fond of this form of dancing, if only because it doesn't require much except for quiet proximity. the faster ones would have steps and rules and all sorts of things to remember.

then again, it's worth a shot. ]

Right above bowling, got it.

[ he's joking, he's joking. ]

[ she's got her cheek pressed against his shoulder; it makes smiling a bit of a challenge, but she nevertheless manages it. he'll end up with lipstick on his cotton shirt by th end. she's sure of it. ]

Lawn bowling, of course.

[ almost as bad as croquet. ]

Lawn bowling?

[ he sounds doubtful that there is such a thing - since when does peggy know so much about such a vast variety of sports? ]

Is that another English thing?

You've never gone lawn bowling. [ an amused beat. ] Of course you haven't.

[ -- she's not ignorant of their very different upbringings. there's a great gulf between a fashionable hampstead childhood and the tighter-packed parts of brooklyn. peggy hadn't been much for bowls herself, but there were always young men playing in pristine whites on the green next to the pavilion.

she used to like to steal the bowling balls; little peg got shouted out of the gardens on more than one occasion for her interference. ]

It, too, is rather dull. So don't go getting any ideas.

[ the last thing she needs is him busting his back over recreating something she'd never much cared for in the first place. ]

I never even knew I had an option of going. Wasn't aware it's a sport. I know bowling. You know - dropping the pins, stupid shoes.

[ the usual sort. ]

You know, you've been saying it a lot lately.

[ don't go getting ideas. ]

Eventually, one of those will stick.

Hopefully, it's the right one.

[ -- peggy's steps quicken just enough to catch up to the next song. ]

Of all the many things I want to do with you, Steve, bowling is absolutely not one of them.

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