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

That's not the same.

[ for once, he's pretty sure Howard Stark isn't interested in his butler in any way. Steve's agenda is entirely different. He wants Peggy, not an easy time cleaning his face every few days. ]

You're describing a force of habit. It's not like that. You're teaching me. You're doing a damn good job, too.

[ he smiles, knowing she watches him. ]

It's just this once.

[ well, probably. ]

[ she gives his one still-dry cheek a light smack with the back of her fingers. corrective, playful, a mixture of the two. hard to say—it's not entirely kind and it's not entirely good but it's also not entirely terrible either. she knows it even as she does it. ]

Sod off. I've hardly started. So flattery isn't welcome.

[ yet. she soothes the place she smacked with a long painted line of shaving cream, and then another, and a third, before tossing the brush in the sink. it bobs there. ]

[ he has to fight many urges. to grab hold of her fingers, of her knee, to laugh happily at her objection and her momentarily ire, to sit still until she's finished. ]

So far, so good.

[ he insists. Once she's done with the first step, he dares to angle his head to look at her. ]

Next time, I think I'll be okay on my own.

[ he thinks. ]

...It's hardly building a rocket. Or baking a pie.

[ neither of which peggy can do, incidentally, but they're examples of tasks she considers far, far harder than shaving a man's face. christ! she's not a man and she can intuit how it's done. has (perhaps) done it once or twice before. but she's never actually expressed that reality to steve.

there's a part of her that hopes he won't ask. there's another part of her that hopes he will. either way, she won't volunteer it. ]

You'd best start keeping your head still.

[ she warns him as she wraps her fingers around the razor's hilt. ]

This next part isn't so gentle.

Yes ma'am.

[ ever dutiful once more, he makes himself comfortable and inches just a bit in his chair so she can have something to lean on, if she'll need the leverage. He looks at the bathroom's wall across from him, sitting still so she can work. ]

You know, I dunno how to build a rocket but I do know how to bake a pie, if you'd like one.

[ living alone with his mother, he's often helped her as much as he could, far more than most boys would. ]

To pay you back.

—How about you wait and see whether we manage without nicking anything vital, hm? Before you start talking compensation.

[ she's growing exasperated with his cheeky, cocksure comebacks. all glimmer and goodwill. too happy with himself, she thinks, for talking her into shaving him. it's only fitting that she make the whole ordeal a little less...comfortable. and while peggy had never made much of a point to use her wiles against him in the past, it's not as if she's a stranger to the minor movements and touches necessary to drive a mark to distraction.

first, namely, she does indeed splay a warm palm against his chest—for leverage—as she leans in with the razor, scraping a line just below his ear. ]

[ her touch is welcome. He's warm but he somehow feels like she's warmer; or perhaps the skin she touches flushes beneath her fingers. He takes a deep breath, inhaling through his nose, counting his own heartbeats. He has a sinking suspicion she can feel his pulse picking up beneath his palm. He tries not to move his head, not to look at her, not while she's still working. ]

I trust you.

[ that, at least, is said very seriously. Not a tease at all. ]

[ the sentiment strikes a little too close to the bone. sweet, and heartfelt, and so very far from the wheelhouses they're meant to be operating in. all she has for him in reply is a stiff, awkward shake of her head as she lays the blade once more against his skin and pulls a long, scraping stroke.

after each one, she reaches down and strops the blade clean on the outer seam of his trousers. heedless, really, of the mess it makes. ]

Hi - hold on - Peg.

[ he doesn't move his head but he's laughing, shoulders shaking ever so slightly. He finally does reach for her, fingers resting on her side. The fabric is soft, he doesn't withdraw his touch just yet. ]

Didn't you say this was a lesson? You can't be teaching me to be untidy. Aren't you the one who said tidiness is important?

[ has she said it? who even knows, but he's willing to assume she had, at some point, back at Leigh. ]

[ she didn't expect—but perhaps she should have—his hand on her hip. steadying, but also interrupting. peg pauses in her work, blade dripping cream and culled hairs, and eases an open hand down to his wrist.

gently but firmly, she pries his fingers off her body. ]

Arms at your sides, Steve.

[ it's not that she doesn't want to be touched. it's that she wants him to suffer.

just a little. ]

[ he listens; only because she's said so very clearly and only because it will give him time to think of his next plan. And so he does as she's asked, putting his hands on his knees. It's a thrill, trying his luck, even if this one move hadn't worked. At the very least he knows what her blouse felt like, its texture, soft and sleek. ]

I'm just sayin'. Is this how you want me to learn?

[ she ignores him. she does it with purpose and she does it with diligence and she props his head to one side as she draws the edged blade down a wide swath of his cheek, adjusting for his jaw. she turns the blade, twists her wrist, and takes the next direction upward—along his neck.

and afterwards, yet again, she cleans the razor on his trousers. ]

Better on your slacks than my stockings.

[ she at long last murmurs, eyes focused on his face but not his eyes. ]

I see your point.

[ better on his slacks, indeed. His palms open and close, trying not to reach for her again as it hasn't worked last time. He'll try again, when the time is right. For now, he'll close his eyes and enjoy her presence. ]

I'll change later.

—Good.

[ it's the nearest she's come to saying something nice ever since he walked out and found her sitting on his bed. of course, such niceness is accompanied by a rather reckless escalation. to best service the centre of his chin, the bit of skin above his lip, she nudges his knees apart and slips smoothly between them. all without lifting her palm off his chest, where she's been holding steady feeling his heart pound.

peggy leans in—looking a little too smug with herself as she draws the blade up his adam's apple. ]

[ if he weren't keen on waiting until she's done, steve would have used this chance. She's finally, almost, in his arms. Peggy moves close, ever closer and he opens his eyes and looks at her. Up close, the deep red lipstick is even more tempting, he can see the very lines of her lips beneath. ]

Are you sure it's necessary I keep my hands at my sides?

Yes. Positive as pie.

[ she chirps, her attention only briefly flickering to catch his gaze before she sets back to work. now, it's a matter of self-control. as much as she would love to invite his hands onto her hips, her side, her thighs...peggy exhales, a moment, at the very thought of what she's denying him.

what she's denying herself. ]

Can't have you getting too...distracted. [ she hums, almost chewing down on a word so near the subtext of what's happening between them today. ] Like you said. You're here to learn.

I'm learning.

[ he's learning how she fits, almost in his lap, he's learning the shape of her lips and that up close, he can see her dimples, even when she's not smiling. Steve is quiet for a moment, giving her time to work. ]

When you're done, then.

[ and just like that, he commits. ]

[ he commits.

and, just like that, she smiles. with his promise (or something that's as good as a promise) in play, peggy knows she can really start teasing at boundaries. he's been teasing at hers all day. asking questions about her life and asking for her clipboard and making such a fuss over learning how to shave his own unkempt chin.

so, as she proceeds to the last half of his face, peggy goes one step further and—retreating one step before returning—takes a proper seat in steve rogers's lap. she sits high on his thighs, facing him, and leans in to pull the blade up from his throat to his chin. ]

Steady.

[ she reminds him—even though she doesn't have to. ]

[ he adjusts. In his defense, he will say he have to. Peggy moves to his lap and in order to make room for her, he must touch her, at least a bit. One hand remains behind her, tucked against her back, the other is draped over her knees, essentially keeping her where she is.

Where she belongs, he thinks. His touch is steady as she's asked and for now, it's light, too. ]

Almost done?

—Good Lord, Steve, I've only done half your chin.

[ well...a little over half, if she's being honest, and especially now that she's stripped another inch bare and shaved. peggy inches forward—body rocking against his, her skirt hitching that little bit higher to accommodate this new position. ]

Don't tell me you're getting impatient.

[ this fresh new movement allows his to shift his hand, palm splayed over her skirt, thumb touching her stockings. They're soft, he can't help but wonder what her skin feels like beneath. ]

Only a little.

[ he's waited until now. Surely he can wait a little longer. ]

[ bloody hell, but they're really doing this. their words outline a scenario quite different to the one at hand. the shave might as well be an afterthought, no matter how much steadiness she still must pour into her hand just to get the job done.

he's not helping, however, and peggy makes it clear in a breathy complaint: ]

...You've got to move that thumb.

[ and before he (wilfully) misunderstands: ]

Away.

[ he's making her hand tremble. ]

[ aha, there it is. He's been waiting for a sign that she's as affected as he us. Her next order is a sure proof and so it's easy to obey. He drags his thumb up her stocking and over her skirt, it's a small touch that holds many promises. He doesn't ask her why. ]

Like this?

[ there is nothing safe about the way his touch drags up, off her thigh, and onto her skirted hip. so peggy presses her mouth into a hard line and...with a good three strokes of steve's stubble still left on his face, she leans back and drops her razor hand onto her knee. the sharp edge sits loose in the air—waiting. ]

I mean it.

[ she meets his eye. ]

This will all be a bit disappointing if everything gets detoured by a shallow cut.

I'm with you.

[ well, he is. He wouldn't have minded a shallow cut if he hadn'f suspected she would. As it is, his hold of her is light and steady again, no finger out of place. ]

Yes ma'am. Go on.

[ he can be good for her for a little while longer. ]

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