encompass | ᴏᴘᴇɴ ᴘᴏsᴛ 2019-2020 ( ɢᴇɴ + sᴍᴜᴛ )

[ the corners of her mouth twitch upward. it's a sly, near-smile. the only real acknowledgement that he must (at times) chafe under this arrangement. they're not being allowed their natural course, because she can't be just peggy for him.

although, god above, she damn well wants to be. ]

Whoever you'll actually answer. [ she says, sipping her tea between words. ] That's who.

[ she'll set the "uniform" aside for a moment, if he prefers, but it'll all end up in the report anyway. ]

[ steve figures that as soon as they let him off her leash, they could talk. For now, Peggy is seeing to her duties, perfectly understandable. Steve has his own agenda; he thinks that she might agree that it's understandable too. ]

Like a baby.

[ he reaches for the kettle. The tea is for her. He needs a coffee. ]

[ ...her eyes narrow. it's as if she always knows when he's lying, but she never quite takes him to ask for it. not in so many words. except perhaps to say: ]

Funny. I thought I heard pacing, last night, 'round three o'clock.

[ which only means that she was up and awake, too, though mostly it's because she couldn't quite knock him out of her thoughts. the snow had just begun to recede around the country house and he'd dared to head outside, yesterday, and chop wood for the drawing room fireplace.

she'd watched from a second story window. and, she must confess, her attention had been a little less than professional. ]

Babies have a weird sleep schedule.

[ he smiles, taking a sip of coffee before sitting down and looking at her. While he's not trying to difficult, he realizes he might yet achieve that very end and none of this is Peggy's doing. It's her job; steve needs to gather his patience and accept that he's her mission for a while.

Only he's never been good at that. ]

I'm fine, Peg. I know you gotta ask and they'll take your word for it and not mine, but I'm okay.

It's not that no one wants to take you at your word, Steve.

[ - give a moment, just a moment, to recover from the achingly intimate gesture inherent to how he calls her peg. he'd never dare, during the war, but there are flickers and flashes of someone altogether different since he came out of the ice.

the top brass fear those changes. peggy, meanwhile, adores them. she seems them for what they are: a man who looked self-sacrifice in the eye, didn't blink, but still got delivered unto a second opportunity to live his life. to her, he seems damn well fearless. ]

It's that you mightn't even realise if something's amiss. The serum kept you alive, thankfully, but anyone else would have died in that ice. It would be daft to take it on faith that there were no other consequences.

[ it's the most she's said about her position in a fortnight. even in the evenings, when she loosens her blouse a little and reads by the fire - or lets him peek at her crosswords - she rarely deigns to offer her own opinion on why they've both been sent here. ]

I know.

[ logically, he does. It would have been worse if they had sent another agent. The thought of her out there in the city would have made him bust out. Still, she's here but at least for a while, she must wear the hat of the hard-professional. Steve understands the circumstances but he resents them, too. ]

I'm fine. I wasn't a good sleeper before the ice. This isn't new. You can tell them that.

I'm well aware.

[ she buries a knowing smile in her cuppa. ]

You used to show up in the bunker at odd hours. Whenever you and the lads were back in London.

[ she would look forward to those strange, late nights. peg might still be behind someone else's borrowed desk. harried by a stack of paperwork she didn't want to complete. and there would be captain rogers, arms crossed and brow furrowed in front of a strategy map.

it was always that little bit harder to get her work done when he was in the room. it's not so different now, really, as she double-edits every report to exorcise any hint or inflection of personal affection within her sentences. ]

I...[ a pause, she doesn't quite know how to complete the sentence she's started. all that's clear is that it's suddenly peggy talking and not agent carter. ] I want you know you can always come to me. If the nights get a little too long and you're a little too restless.

[ genuine concern creases her forehead. ]

Can't imagine it feels like it, just now, but we are in this together.

Edited 2020-03-30 00:35 (UTC)

Your sleep schedule has always been as messy as mine.

[ steve found it interesting. So very often he wanted to ask her what kept her awake, was her mind buzzing with ideas and questions? Was it simply too stuffy in the bunker?

But just then, something softens and steve knows that work or not, this is still the woman who has helped him cross enemy lines. ]

I will.

[ he nods and after a moment, adds, ]

I don't mean to be difficult.

[ it's a hinted, earnest apology. ]

You're not. [ being difficult. ] You're being you.

[ which (she supposes) does often come with a certain measure of difficulty. steve had a reputation, during the war, for being a particular kind of hardass. the kind that only ever followed the orders he felt like following. ]

And that's all I've ever asked for.

[ she raises her mug before her next sip. ]

Cheers, by the way. For the tea.

[ he thinks he could get up just now, put his cup away, as well as hers and kiss her. For one mad moment, Steve imagines cupping her cheeks and finding out what her lipstick tastes like.

He thinks about the dance he owes her, thinks how she had been forced to put that promise aside only to have him thrust back into her life.

Steve loves her and he thinks that if he's not careful, he might blurt it out. ]

Anytime.

[ he can't sleep that night at all. He tries to read and fails, tries to sketch and ends up with an outline of her fingers crooked around the tea cup. He tries not to listen but he still catches a sound or two coming from her room

Her offer echoes in his ears. He gets up and walks over, knocking on her door. ]

[ peggy carter doesn't believe in sixth senses. yet, somehow, she already guesses that tonight will find their paths crossing all over again - just like they did in the bunker. but this time, it's all the more ironic that the paperwork from which he distracts her is all about him to begin with. she keeps each report in a tidy stack on a roll-top desk.

and although she shuffles a beige dossier over the lot, she does little else to disguise what she'd been doing.

she answers the door after a scant twenty seconds' delay. it's some unreasonable hour, but she's still dressed - albeit with an extra button undone and her shirt not quite tucked. her heels are kicked off, too, so that she's walking on bare stockings. and so she also loses a few inches, suddenly all that much shorter than steve. ]

So much for sleeping like a baby.

[ she looks him up and down. she assesses him. and then, with a gentle nudge, she opens the door wider. peggy invites him into a warmly furnished bedroom with ample lighting and a very, very large four-post bed. there's a stately wardrobe on the far wall and an obscene complement of windows that overlook the inky-dark grounds. ]

It's the windows. There are too many in the damn house.

[ and they rattle every so often with the wind. With his enhanced hearing, it's like a band of drums. ]

I can hear them all at once. What's your excuse?

[ she's dressed, after all. She's never even tried to sleep. ]

You.

[ it's sharp and it's earnest and it's true in a half-dozen ways beyond the one in which it's currently meant. peggy crosses her arms over her chest and retreats by a few steps.

there's no need to shut the door. they have the whole place to themselves, after all. privacy is hardly an issue here. ]

It's a helluva challenge, actually. Thinking about you. Taking every thought I've got, [ she taps her temple, ] and deciding which ones are worth committing to ink.

[ and which she wants to tender only to herself. selfish and needy. ]

[ when he walks inside, it feels like a first step towards a goal he's aspired to since he woke up. The room smells like her, soap and perfume. Steve takes a seat in an armchair and tries not to stare at anything but her. ]

Which ones are not?

[ they are far more interesting than the professional observations. ]

[ and just like that, peggy is backed into a corner of her own devising. it's not so dreadful, really, given how steve likely needs a bit of of her vulnerability to calm his frayed nerves.

he sits but she doesn't - choosing instead to lean a shoulder against one of the bed posts. ]

You cheat at cards. [ her eyes glimmer. her expression warms. ] You like your yolks jammy. You don't chop firewood like I'd expect a city boy to do.

[ he has gathered a few observations of his own. Peggy likes tea with no milk and no sugar and she likes it strong. Peggy likes to listen to the radio just after the 10 o'clock news when they play jazz, peggy doesn't eat like a lady, not at all.

She's gorgeous. Every little thing Steve finds out makes the realization settle. ]

I don't cheat at cards.

[ Like that's what's important. ]

Edited 2020-03-30 01:30 (UTC)

- Oh, you do so.

[ she chides him. the outburst is all ego. and it's entirely possible that she's made it all up, simply sour that he'd finally beaten her the evening previous and she hasn't been able to win another hand since. ]

You might as well just admit it. Hand to God, I won't put it in the report.

[ she cajoles him, half-scowling and half-smiling. ]

I'll keep your secret.

Never would have guessed you're a sore loser.

[ it's a fun little banter, something that he remembers doing in the wee hours in abandoned barns in Ukraine, in little safe houses in Belarus when it was just them and the Howlies. ]

We can go another round.

[ they have time. they have all the time in the world, really. sleep won't come knocking on either of their doors. ]

[ she scoffs. sore loser, her? how very dare he. but the banter is nice and she sort of sinks into it like one might sink into a comfortable old chair. her temple leans against the bed post.

he offers her another round. ]

If you stay put, I'll go get the cards.

[ she could have sent him for the pack. he would have gone, too. but it's important that he still trusts her. important that she trusts him, too, not to snoop to far or too deep. ]

Yes ma'am. I'm right here.

[ steve would remember every detail of this room, such is his memory. He stays in his chair at first, notes the scent of her shampoo and her perfume. He looks at her vanity table, at a few tubes of lipstick and her hair brush.

Steve wonders what her morning looks like. Does she sit on her bed and puts her stockings on? or perhaps she leans one leg on the arm-charm he's sitting in?

it's a bit maddening, how each detail is so very appealing. He wants to find out everything, everything she likes and dislikes. He's as excited about it as he is about the observations she's making.

Does Peggy wear pjs to bed? does she wear a nightgown? he looks at her robe, arranged nearly by the bed and quickly looks away. His cheeks are tinged pink. ]

[ - she isn't gone for long. it's only a matter of breezing out of the room, its door still open, and hurrying down the grand staircase. they'd left the pack of cards out in the drawing room, piled loosely on a small table between two stately chairs. there's no such convenient surface in her bedroom to play a game. they'll have to improvise.

when she returns, she does notice a slight flush in his face. and she wonders why (naturally) but imagines it's easy enough to make a creature like steve rogers feel bashful when he's left in someone else's sleeping quarters. nothing looks out of place, however, and she smiles as she approaches. ]

I think we're best off playing on the floor.

[ the desk is covered in paperwork and the bed is, well, the bed. she clicks her fingers and points him down to the carpet. ]

Go on, then.

Yeah, of course.

[ makes sense. He clears his throat and moves down, knees first, to the floor. He lets her shuffle the cards, watching her as she does. He thinks it's a chance to say something, anything that doesn't have to do with his health or his sleeping habits.

still, he can't go ahead and ask her how she's been for five or so years. ]

Haven't seen Stark in a while.

[ that's a safe start. ]

[ meanwhile, peggy takes a bit more care when decamping to the floor. she manages her pencil skirt with moderate grace, opting to sit with her back against the end of the bed and her legs stretching in front of her - crossed daintily at the ankle.

for a moment, only the sound of the shuffling cards fills the air. ]

I told him to bugger off.

[ a brief pause. ]

He makes it hard to get anything done.

[ too nosy, to presumptive, too rakish. ]

He's being nice.

[ in his own unique way. Steve doesn't need the fuss but it's nice to see Howard and get Belgian chocolates or candy from Morocco. The man travels a lot and he always brings something interesting back. Aside of the terribly milky beverages and his many stories involving women, he's good company. ]

Do you see him very often? He told me you've made friends with his butler.

Nice.

[ she echoes, abandoning any attempt to answer steve's more personal inquiries. ]

The man is a mustachio'd menace.

[ peggy pauses in how she shuffles the card deck, and instead uses the whole pack to gesture firmly in steve's direction. ]

What did he stock your room with, hm? [ implying that he'd very much done so to hers. ] Go on. Tell me.

[ it's impossible to mistake that this is peggy asking the question. agent carter has been shelved for the night. ]

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