Steve Rogers, aka Captain America (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
stark_spangled) wrote2015-07-20 12:59 am
stark_spangled) wrote2015-07-20 12:59 am
Entry tags:
[Personal Log:] A Dream is but a Dream... for peggy_carter
Steve feels like he's just getting back on his feet. Not that he'd ever willingly admit it out loud, but losing Peggy for the second time in a row was hard on him. It took the better part of two years to get over her after waking up the first time ... and only then because he could see her, and talk to her in D.C. (once he worked up the nerve to pick up the phone). Even if time had different plans for them than dancing at the Stork Club and sharing a kiss on V-E Day, he still considered her one of his closest friends and most trusted confidantes.
And then he came here, and there she was. Not retired Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. Margaret Carter, but Peggy. His Peggy. Like looking back through time at the second chance they never got.
And he squandered it.
There's a part of him who believes he did the right thing. She lived a life after he "died". A good life, full of family, children, love; a life where she rose to all of her aspirations, not that he ever doubted she would. Director Carter. He's damn proud of her for that. Everyone on this ship talks about getting home, stopping Q, and could Steve have lived with himself if he took Peggy away from that life because he selfishly wanted his second chance? He finally broke down, asked her on a date, and maybe it was fate punishing him that sent Peg home before that date ever happened. Still, there's some other part of him that will always kick himself wondering what if?
It's taken a few months to stop brooding, mostly at the prodding and eye-rolling of his friends on board, but he thinks maybe things can get back to the way they were. Maybe he can move on this time.
And then he sees her again.
He's walking out of the room he shares with Akito on his way to the gym, pocketing an iPod that's going to run out of battery life eventually, when he catches her going into a room a few doors away out of the corner of his eye. Maybe he's just seeing things, but the way his chest constricts and his mouth turns to cotton is without reason.
"Peg?" he calls, twin lines forming between his brows, watching and waiting to see if the apparition turns back.
And then he came here, and there she was. Not retired Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. Margaret Carter, but Peggy. His Peggy. Like looking back through time at the second chance they never got.
And he squandered it.
There's a part of him who believes he did the right thing. She lived a life after he "died". A good life, full of family, children, love; a life where she rose to all of her aspirations, not that he ever doubted she would. Director Carter. He's damn proud of her for that. Everyone on this ship talks about getting home, stopping Q, and could Steve have lived with himself if he took Peggy away from that life because he selfishly wanted his second chance? He finally broke down, asked her on a date, and maybe it was fate punishing him that sent Peg home before that date ever happened. Still, there's some other part of him that will always kick himself wondering what if?
It's taken a few months to stop brooding, mostly at the prodding and eye-rolling of his friends on board, but he thinks maybe things can get back to the way they were. Maybe he can move on this time.
And then he sees her again.
He's walking out of the room he shares with Akito on his way to the gym, pocketing an iPod that's going to run out of battery life eventually, when he catches her going into a room a few doors away out of the corner of his eye. Maybe he's just seeing things, but the way his chest constricts and his mouth turns to cotton is without reason.
"Peg?" he calls, twin lines forming between his brows, watching and waiting to see if the apparition turns back.
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But if he didn't go away... Was she finally losing her mind after the worry of it? This place had done her in, or this place wasn't real at all. Idiocy, that was unfathomably less likely than the fact that this was Steve Rogers in front of her in the flesh. He was real.
Her hands went numb and her small clutch fell from her fingers. "I was home, I..." She licked her lips and felt herself finding that same lightheaded place that she'd fallen into when Marian told her that this was a possibility.
"Steve, is it really you?" One hand reached for him, her feet somehow managed to move with some of their old grace. "My God, it's you!" The spell was broken and her clouded mind snapped as clear as a Polaroid picture. Peggy stepped up to him, her hand allowed to trespass in taking his lightly.
He was warm and solid, and she wasn't sure which of them was trembling, or if they both were. She felt laughter bubble up and spill from her lips as tears slipped form her eyes. "I thought I'd lost you. Marian said you could be here but I didn't dare think it."
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His mouth goes dry, and he can't pick out whether he's upset or relieved that she doesn't remember they've already done this. Sunbursts of memory collapse and expand one right after another in a matter of seconds, his thoughts coming too quickly to slow down and settle on just one, but it doesn't matter. The important thing is she's here, and he tempts impropriety by reaching for her jaw, his thumb tenderly tracing the strong line.
He hasn't found his voice before she takes his hand, falling into the familiar intimacy far too easily. She can put butterflies in his stomach every time, even when those eyes of hers are brimming with tears. He smooths the doubt from his expression and smiles for her, eyebrows arched, fingers squeezing her hand.
"Marian? I don't ... " he trails off, shaking his head. He's not sure who this Marian gal is, but that's not important right now either. "It's me. It's really me, Peg. I'm OK."
His eyes pore over her to make sure she's OK, too. She's bright, and vivid, and beautiful. His memory can never do her justice. "How long have you been here?"
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Flesh and blood and real.
Peggy's smile dashed any reserve she might have had. Long ago she might have kept some sort of demure distance but that was before she realized what she had squandered and lost. She had been younger then, and far more idealistic. She'd been spoiled by being needed and falling in with men who respected her. Life was hardly that fair as it turned out, she'd grown up a lot since the war, she'd had to.
"She's... that's not important right now." They could talk later about things like who shares quarters, this was a moment to be drunk in greedily. His strong hand held hers and gave a squeeze that caused her breath to hitch.
"A few weeks I think, I find it hard to keep track without the sunrise. Time seems to blend together, I'm just now finding my real footing." And thinking of looking into an occupation for herself, being idle was not something she was built for.
"And you? How did you get here? Did they save you from the plane? Was that the static?" Sudden hope that he had indeed been saved, spared the crash that she blamedfor their separation. It would explain why they hadn't found more wreckage or him.
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But he loved her, and they both knew that. Even if he was better at hiding it, it wouldn't change anything. Her smile brightens, and so does his, eyes crinkling and heart racing. It's so unfair for her to be surprised like this. He wishes he'd had time like he did before to try and think of the right words. He wishes he'd swept her into his arms, kissed her for luck while the ship hummed underfoot. But he's still that kid from Brooklyn, a little awkward around the edges, and a little unsure. Especially when it comes to her.
"And before that?" he asks. "What do you remember before a few weeks ago? Where had you been?"
He tries not to let his curiosity get the better of him or to think too hard on what this means. Has he been given a blank slate? A chance to do things over? He rubs the back of his neck, a nervous breath spent as her questions roll in. There's so much to tell her. "No ... Listen, Peggy -- do you want to maybe go for a walk? Or -- and you can say no -- um, do you want to come in?"
He gestures back toward his room, and a little color creeps up his neck. He's not suggesting anything untoward (his only thought right now is putting on some decent clothes, and making sure she has someplace to sit when he breaks the news of what happened to him), but this is the first time he's asked a lady into his room. Even if the year back home is 2014, he's still got 1944 on the brain, and he wouldn't blame her a bit if she clocked him one.
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And then he just..did he...
Peggy was no a woman of the Vestal variety. She was a woman who had laid her life on the line in war, and so doing a lot of social constraints were ill afforded. In short she was not a virgin, nor was she unfamiliar with the interiors of men's rooms. She hadn't taken a shocking number of lovers, she was surely nothing like Howard, but this particular invitation gave her pause; if only by the issuer of the invitation.
"Yes." She spoke quickly and had to swallow the sudden taste of humility that welled in her mouth. "I mean yes I would like to talk, and I would be comfortable doing so in your room if you liked." Yes, far better an answer than her previous. And it made more sense and possibly would not give the impression that she was looking to mount him the instant the door was shut.
As appealing as that idea might have been, it was not how one did things.
Especially with this particular man. There was a right way and a wrong way and what worked with men like Howard was not what worked with Steve.
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He's still drifting through these thoughts when he realizes there's a pause in conversation, and he refocuses. The deep furrow in his brow smooths, eyes widening, and the embarrassment comes back in force.
"That's what I meant," he hurries to assure her, holding a hand up like he's about to admit surrender. "I just, there's -- I mean -- there isn't a lot of places where we can have some, uh, privacy -- just to talk! -- on a ship like this. You know, there's -- there's always -- people ... "
He takes a breath and gives up, eyes refocusing on his feet. Great job, Rogers. "Let me get your bag."
He crouches down to retrieve her fallen clutch at last, and comes back up rubbing the back of his neck and looking as nervous as a kid in Sunday School. He smiles just slightly, and holds out his free hand to her.
"You look great, Peg," he says, the words I missed you heavy in each inflection.
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“I understood what you meant, and that were it any other man but you I might expect an explanation. “ It was comical that the one man she would have entertained those thoughts about without hesitation is the one man who would, invariably hesitate. Perhaps though that was part of why she, felt the way she did about him.
“You look very well, but the clothing is something different than I am used to seeing you in. I’ve seen a great deal of it here though so I’ve come to understand this is what is generally worn for calisthenics now.“ It was looser and yet more conforming than the clothing issued by the military. It allowed a wide range of motion and did not interfere with speed or mobility. It made sense to practice in such things if you know how your own equipment and uniform would work contrarily.
Peggy laid her hand gently on his arm and ushered him inside his room, not giving time for him to suffer further embarrassment for it. She looked around and noted that these quarters were nearly exactly the same as her own. “Do you share quarters? I do.” Her hand lingered on his arm as if it was loath to deny her the touch of him.
She considered herself quite even keel for the flutter of her heart and near shock at seeing him from a moment ago. She recovered nicely and moved on to discovering the facts. “Do you mind if I sit?” She’d hardly given him a chance to say or do much else since he greeted her; Peggy took charge, as always, and led them on. In truth it was more to keep her from drawing him into her arms right then and there than any leanings of leadership.
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"You're late."
"Weren't you about to...?"
"...Right."
He'd wanted to sweep her off her feet like Cary Grant in the middle of the most important battle of his life, because everything else had a habit of fading into the background whenever she was near. And it wasn't because she was so beautiful, or because she saved his life; from the moment he first met her, she was always unabashedly, unshrinkingly herself, unafraid to be frank with him, and undeterred by who he was. She never treated him any differently after the procedure than she had before. She saw him for who he was and who he could be, not for what the serum made him.
He recovers (but not before she's talking calisthenics and roommates and leading him rather than the other way around), and he's doing what he always used to do -- hopping to. There is a lot about Steve that hasn't changed, but a few things that have. The tally of girls he's spoken to has gone up, so while that shy sincerity that used to trip him up is still there it's been tempered with age. Instead of struggling to keep up, nervously clearing his throat with a yes ma'am and a shy glance cast at his feet, he forgoes her questions and pulls to a gentle stop, hand closing over her knuckles to keep her touch.
"Peggy." He can hear the door hush shut behind them, reminding him of how brazen it would be to move any closer. They'd always left room for the angels before, as the saying goes. But for however composed she can be, however convincing that polite reserve is, Steve has always worn his heart on his sleeve. He makes a half-step closer, enough that he can feel her warmth, chin to his chest so he can see her eyes. He's thought about holding her hundreds of times, he's thought about the words he would say if he had the chance. But now that the moment's here, maybe for the first time in his life he doesn't have a reply.
He looks down, dual lines tattooed between his eyebrows, and steps back.
"No, please sit," he says, clearing his throat. As soon as he lets go of her hand he feels cold. "I do have a roommate. Uh, let me go see if he's in before we get started, he's -- well, he's kind of my ward."
Just another story to tell her about. He moves to each bedroom, checking for Akito and making sure both doors are closed before he comes back to where Peggy is sitting, but not before snatching a shirt from his bed and shrugging it on. He misses a few buttons, but it already feels more comfortable than just the t-shirt.
"Doesn't look like he's here," he says, settling on the other end of the couch. That's it for distractions. Now it's just the two of them, and the questions he still doesn't know how to answer.
"Peg ... they didn't save me from the plane," he begins haltingly, voice pitched low and eyes on his hands. He leans forward to brace his forearms on his knees, dominant hand rubbing the knuckle of his left thumb. It's a nervous tic he developed in art school. "The crash didn't kill me. But -- the plane was trapped in the ice. And so was I."
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She sat, on hand smoothing her skirt under her in the movement, something she'd done a thousand times. Habit and routine had made her life bearable once she returned to the post war states. It was working those same steady jobs that were both her bane and her savior. It gave her little sense of satisfaction but a world to concentrate on. Some days she could almost imagine her life hadn't shattered in the spring of 1945.
She had gone on, of course. Anything less would have been a disgrace to Steve's memory and the inspiration he had tried to be. He made her a better soldier, a better woman and she had tried to live every day to that example. Of all she imagined, she never thought she would be face to face with him again.
She never thought she'd see him again and now here he was checking to see if they were alone. Something they had never really been before in the whole time they had known each other. She watched mutely while he pulled a shirt on and returned to seat himself away from her. The void between them felt enormous and she angled herself to more face him. She had questions about his 'ward' but they could wait for the moment, the serious look on his face told her that there were heavier topics to cover first.
"They didn't..." She furrowed her brow in confusion. If they hadn't saved him from the crash how was he here. She found herself in an unusual situation and faced with a statement she hadn't uttered often. "I don't understand."
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"All I know is what they told me," he says, catching her eyes. "The plane went down in the Arctic, and with the way the ice shifted and moved -- nobody found it for almost 70 years, Peg. Not until April 14, 2012."
This is the hardest part, being with her again and wanting nothing more than to talk about this crazy, amazing spaceship and the people they've met and the things they've seen, to hold her hand and tell her how much she means to him, how much he thinks about her every day. But before any of that can happen, he has to break her heart all over again.
"Erskine's formula -- however he developed it, it kept my blood from crystallizing, and they think that's why I ... I didn't die. The ice, uh, kept me alive. Cryogenically. I had one hell of a nap, and woke up in New York in 2012 like not a day had passed." He pauses, and tries to put on a smile for her. It comes out wan at best. "I'm still waiting on all of my social security checks."
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"Erskine was a genius," She managed to keep her voice level and offer a nod while still not looking up. She focused on her hands in her lap as she took in the idea of seven decades of ice and snow.
"He was my last solo assignment before the project. I had to infiltrate a Hydra base in a castle dressed as s servant if you can believe it. He was a valuable asset and an even better man." His loss had hurt her, not to the same degree as Steve's but deeply enough to leave marks. And now she owed him yet again, he brought Steve into her life twice and she couldn't even thank him properly.
He tried to cheer her, the joke wasn't really all that funny but in a grim moment even that could at least win a choked laugh from her. It quieted too soon but at least her lips turned up at the corners rather than the thin set of before. "I doubt you'll get them, bureaucracy always seems to have a way of working around inconveniences."
She ought to say something here, something meaningful and something articulate and poised. She needed to tell him all he meant to the world and how he inspired so many to go on to do so much. She had to make him see just how many lives he had touched and how he'd made her better, stronger than she was before. She need to make sure he knew just how important he had been to the world. "I love you."
The words shocked her, it wasn't what she'd intended to say, not remotely. But it wasn't untrue either. She wiped a hand over her face after and tried to draw them back somehow. "I'm sorry, that,"" Wasn't true? To deny it would be a lie. Wasn't what she had meant to tell him? Another lie. She sighed and finally looked at him, in all his youth and glory well beyond the years he measured now. "I never told you that, before. I wanted to during the raid on Hydra but I always thought we'd have more," her voice caught on the word. "Time."
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His heart sinks, and without even having to think about it he pushes himself closer to her, his gaze falling to her hands at the same time hers does. He reaches for her, one hand over her knuckles and the other sliding under her palm, lips twisted in wry approximation of a smile as she talks about Erskine. However much he'd meant to Steve, Steve knows he must have meant that much more to her.
"It's OK," he says quietly, trying to keep some levity. It's a Band-Aid for a grenade wound, but he wants to believe it'll make this easier. "Lucky for me, I'm still in a job. Retiring to Bocas can wait."
He ought to say something here. Something meaningful, about what she meant to the world and how she inspired so many to go on to do so much. Her name is already past his lips when she tells him she loves him, and in that moment everything stops.
He's dimly aware that she's still speaking, but it's like she's talking to him from the other side of a wind tunnel. He'd wanted to tell her ... He'd hoped ... There was always a part of him that wasn't sure she felt that way about him, and he realizes that even after their first kiss and their last goodbye, he didn't really know it until this moment. She loved him. He's caught in that tunnel while it sinks in, and he thinks about the family portraits sitting beside her bed in D.C., he thinks about an empty table at the Stork Club and Howard's plane and fondue, he wonders if he could ever measure up and maybe that's why she hesitates, maybe that's why she tries to take it back, maybe it's too late, maybe he waited too long to tell her that he loves her, too. She's still speaking, but it isn't until she says time that his eyes refocus and he remembers every second of those wasted moments, and the ache he's felt in every moment since. He overthinks too much, but for a minute the only thing he can fathom are those sad eyes, and how much he's missed looking at her. He cups her face, thumbs brushing the apples of her cheeks. And without another wasted second, he kisses her.
It isn't the most elegant. He's out of practice and too-aware of the catch in both their throats, but it's without hesitation or reserve, eyes screwed shut like he can will time to stop for them now, like the moment doesn't have to end, fingers sinking into her hair and the way he feels about her finally laid out on the line, completely bare to her. I love you, he thinks. He can't bear to pull away long enough to say it, but it's screaming in every beat of his heart. I love you. I love you.
And then he realizes how completely selfish he's being, and he pulls himself back.
"I ... " he exhales, trying to catch his breath. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have ... I wasn't ... "
Head shaking, he keeps his head lowered and his eyes on his knees. He didn't ask her permission. He didn't do this right. He starts thinking about those portraits again, and how his heart sinks.
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She hadn't meant to blurt things out and when she did dare a glance up he seemed confused. She had overstepped her bounds, and she couldn't blame him for being stunned. She'd never bothered to tell him how she felt before, though she'd always given subtle signals. Steve wasn't an experienced man with the subtleties of women though and she should have known better. She ought to have been direct and told him straight out what her feelings were.
Some stupid traditions of reserve and stoicism kept her from speaking more brazenly when it mattered, standing on ceremony rather than being honest. It was the biggest regret of her life after not continuing the search for Steve. And now here she was throwing things in his face that he may not even want to hear anymore. He perhaps had a new life, seventy years was a long time to move on. He might have all but forgotten her by now.
And then he's in motion and she is sure he will show her out and her lips are parted to apologize but they are swiftly given another and far more pleasurable task. It's a shock, as she is sure that kiss on Shmidt's car in the Hydra base must have been. His lips are soft and warm and yielding but with more confidence than she would have expected. Just as Peggy was leaning into the kiss he retreated and she was left stunned, the warmth of his touch fading from her now heated cheeks.
What?
What?
"The only thing you should apologize for is stopping." Peggy moved, smooth and quick and leaned into him, one hand pressed to his chest and the other sliding up his neck, over his jaw and sinking fingers back into the glorious silk of his hair. Her eyes fluttered and closed and she captured his mouth. This time she was prepared and she poured her feelings into this kiss.
Kiss? It was so much more than that, it was a physical display of her feelings. Not grossly sexual but deep, powerful and emotional. She gave him her lips and took his in return. Her breath was an afterthought because she could very well live in this moment without air. She had never kissed him properly before and she set about showing him how it was done this time. If she only got this moment to do so she would give it everything. Her heart and soul poured into the act and a soft coo issued from deep in her throat, the sort of sound only heard when one was utterly and completely content with their situation.
She held him for a couple of good solid minutes before she eased back, it was so and deliberate and she gave herself a long while to bask in it before she opened her eyes. They glowed, she glowed and finally she smiled. A truly, deeply happy smile. Peggy breathed deeply, finally allowing herself that luxury, but not moving far from him, her hand still on his chest measuring his heart beat.
"And if you try to apologize for that I will lay you out like I did Hodge."
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She is so much better at this than he is, not that anyone would be surprised. All he can really do is hold on, fingers splayed and palms open to make up for 70 years of not touching her, lips clumsy but eager and receptive to each prompting she gives him. He's never less than a gentleman, even when that is the furthest thought from his mind; he measures the curve of her waist in his palms, the strength of her spine, the regal arch of her neck and her soft hair, her proud shoulders -- he touches her like a blind man, committing her to memory, only letting go when he needs to brace them from teetering over, and only then just with one hand. He's glad for it a moment later though, when Peggy hums and the sound skirrs down his spine like a lightning bolt, and involuntarily his fingers dig into the couch cushion. There have been other kisses with other girls, but he's never in his whole life felt this way.
He's dumbstruck when she pulls back, even more comically so than when she kissed him in Schmidt's car, and this time Phillips isn't here to snap him out of it. His eyes are heavily lidded and his heart is racing, hand still clenching the couch as the echoes of her coo shudder through his body and settle somewhere beneath his stomach. When the fog lifts, she's smiling at him, and he thinks he's never seen anything more beautiful in his life.
It's just going to take him a minute to recover.
The warning makes him laugh, a little breathless but enough to make his eyes crinkle. He cups her jaw affectionately, and glances down. She'll probably be able to tell that he's still thinking about it, still believes it's necessary, but he learned his lesson in that burned out bar the day he lost Bucky that arguing with Peggy Carter was never a smart thing to do. Whenever he couldn't see the forest through the trees, she reminded him where the path was. So he swallows down his guilt and his apologies, and lets himself laugh for just a few more seconds.
"Yes, ma'am," he says, leaning in to rest his forehead against hers. His chest hasn't ached like this since the last time he had pneumonia, even though he knows in another minute it will feel like nothing happened at all. "Peg?"
He can't do this, not without her knowing. "I've gotta tell you something."
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It was an eternity before she spoke and he laughed and they could just enjoy each other. She soaked in his presence and the way his heart raced under her palm. Even his strong, powerful heart could be driven by such feelings, a super soldier and man of peak condition. It wasn't without a degree of flattery to her vanity that she noted his reaction, the heavy lidded eyes, the breathless flush of his cheeks. Even then he was as handsome as a man could be.
She realized it wasn't the line of his strong jaw or the breadth of his shoulders that made him such an appealing man, it was something in his eyes and his heart that drew her to him. The man she'd met, scrawny and frail in appearance and a lion in spirit had captured her attention as surely as his later form caught the eye of others. If the women who had stepped on him before only knew what they had missed out on, she had them to thank for him being here now.
"Good." She responded with her own light laughter to his acceptance of her order. And the fell so comfortably into the familiar touch of his hand again. She leaned in when he did and her hand raised to lightly curl over his. He had other things to tell her, but what could they mean now?
He was here, she was here and they wouldn't waste any more time. They had their second chance, anything he could tell her wouldn't change a thing. "As long as it isn't telling me you need to leave, I think I can handle it." He wasn't going to get away so easily this time.
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"Actually, it's my room, so I'm not going anywhere," he teases dryly. It's been a long time since he last had any reason to smile this openly. Even as quick with the sass as he is, he's always just a little restrained, a little distant in the eyes. Nat is always telling him to get a hobby, get a girlfriend, find something to do. With Peggy here, there's a spark in his eyes again. "And I don't want you to go anywhere either."
He's lost her twice now, and both times were his fault. He doesn't know if there's a real chance for them to be together anymore, but it doesn't matter regardless of what happens. She means more to him than a beautiful face, a picket fence, or a brood of kids. She's the most important gal in his life, and he wants her to be happy. He'd never hurt her, not again, not if he could help it.
He takes a deep breath, combing her hair behind her ear and soaking in the closeness for one more second. He pulls back reluctantly, but he keeps his hand in hers.
"A lot of things happen between the war and the time I came in from," he says, brow pinched. "70 years is a long time. To me, it feels like yesterday. One minute I was in the middle of the war, and the next everything had changed. It only feels like two years since the last day you and I saw each other. But you lived those 70 years."
He wets his lips, shaking his head almost imperceptibly. "I know you, Peg. I know your future."
A future that was possible because Steve wasn't in it.
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But he needed to speak and she would let him, it was important to them both to do things right and she would never dream of rushing him. So she would let him say his peace. Peggy held his hand firmly but not in a possessive grip, just enough to give him the encouragement to continue.
He knew her? Well of course he did, they'd spent much time around each other, mostly with others to be sure but they weren't exactly strangers. That he should feel the need to tell her that was a wonder. But he continued and her smile faded just a bit. He knew how her life went on. How her life without him had gone on.
Working for the government as she did her life would be on record, he would know about how she fought to find a home in the S.S.R. and never quite fit in after the war. Depending on how history wrote it he might even know about her association with Howard and saving his reputation as well as his life. Though she doubted her exploits of saving the city were noted anywhere but her own memories.
She'd never told anyone of how she said goodbye to Steve, she hadn't wanted to share even that much of him with anyone. So there was no way he could be speaking about that even if he was angry with her decision. He must be concerned that whatever he knew of her future was problematic for them.
"You might well know more than I if you are from so far in the future." She wasn't smiling brightly but she wasn't frightened either. "Is it so hard to tell me I end up a shriveled old maid making tea and biscuits for a houseful of cats?" She laughed, but it was somewhat hollow. "No, you're right that really would be a bad end."
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She's not wrong, though. Doing what's right is always going to win out over anything else he could ever want. This is too important to rush. She's too important to rush.
He breathes a laugh, assuming she has to be joking. He couldn't take that image of her seriously, and he knows she couldn't either. Except -- there's a hollowness to the way she laughs that he notices a few seconds too late. The amusement falls from his face.
"Peggy," he says incredulously, brow rucked. He has some idea of how unhappy she was after the war, but it's hard for him to think of her as anything other than Margaret Carter: war hero, Howling Commando, the best damn soldier he knew, and the first Director of S.H.I.E.L.D.. She was changing the world long before he hit the ice, and her reputation stands on its own. He may have carried a shield, but she was S.H.I.E.L.D.. He hesitates, not sure how much he should say. "The last thing you could ever be is alone."
For one moment, he sees her in her hospital bed, surrounded by the tokens of a legacy in love, duty, and her illustrious career. She lived a life. She found her place.
"You know Howard's not the only one who believed in you," he continues, squeezing her hand. "There's no one else I would have trusted to finish what I'd started -- what we'd started. You do great things, Peggy. You'd started long before you met me," he says with a self-deprecating chuckle. "I couldn't be more proud of the things you've done."
His eyes are filled with that pride. He doesn't glance away until the sadness creeps back in, gaze dropping to their linked hands.
"I always thought that after the war we'd end up back in New York. That maybe I'd find the courage to ask you on another date, assuming I didn't end up crippling you learning how to dance," he smirks softly. "And maybe we'd -- I don't know. A little house. A picket fence.
"Fate just had something else in mind.
"I always regretted not being there. I regretted missing our date. I regretted leaving things the way we did; not telling you that I love you, too. But someday we're gonna get everyone off this boat and back to where they belong, and you're going to go back to changing the world. And I -- just don't want to mess that up. I don't want to ruin your life."
He doesn't have the hubris to say 'again', but he remembers enough to know how much pain she went through after he went MIA. He'd have a hard time forgiving himself if he changed the course of history, but he could never forgive knowingly putting her through that kind of pain again. Not if there's something better for her out there.
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That seemed to be the rub, though he coated it with praise and flowery words. Non of them false, not from Steve, the man didn't have an insincere bone in his body. But they were surely said to soften the coming blow in the kindest of ways. Why? What was so terrible? She couldn't imagine death in service would be so awful or unexpected.
He spoke of his pride and he had to know how mutual that was, that she had been as proud of him as she was in love with him. Perhaps they were emotions that worked hand in hand, since both started early on in her association with him.
Steve went on about a dream she too shared, if not the same in detail at least her's matched in intent. The two of them would be together, possibly marry but even if they didn't she could have been happy just being with him. A family, it would have been more than she'd thought her life was entitled to but with him it made sense. Already her mind had images of a boy and girl playing in a yard while they looked on; arms entwined at each others waists. It was a simple dream and yet so powerful it absorbed her until he continued.
"You weren't there because you made a choice to save the world. If anyone could ever hold that against you they are heartless and dull." He surely couldn't think she would ever blame him for that. "I waited too long to say anything to you, I wasted time too. You can't blame yourself for how things turned. No one could have foreseen that, or this." Her free hand moved to stroke his cheek softly, she wanted to reassure him.
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"I've made this mistake before," he says, but he pulls himself short. She doesn't remember being here before or any of the things they talked about then, and he isn't sure if he should bring that up now. He'll have to tell her eventually, but he doesn't want to complicate things when they're already complicated enough. He purses his lips, and rewords. "I've played out this conversation before, and I know that -- it wouldn't be fair to you to decide what's best just because I know one future where you're ... "
Happy. Without him.
His brow beetles. "I love you, Peg. I've loved you through a war, through dying, through a whole second life. I've loved you through old age, and sickness, even knowing that we'd never get a chance to go dancing. I'm gonna love you forever. But you could have so much better -- you deserve so much better than some ghost you'll only get to see on a spaceship, which sounds like the kind of movie I wouldn't have even paid a nickel to see."
He exhales a laugh, face tilting more into her touch. He made this mistake before, saying he was doing the right thing and pushing her away. She was right to get angry. To leave. He's not going to make the same mistake twice.
"It's your choice, but it wouldn't have felt right not letting you know," he says, avoiding her eyes. "That you -- you like the life you had. And I want you to be happy, even if it's with somebody else. Anything less than that would have been dishonest. No matter what happens, you're not gonna lose me. I promise."
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She can appreciate that he doesn't want to decide things for her,she was much the same with him. She knew her feelings and had never wanted to press or force that on him. He was better than a simple fling or a dalliance. The feelings she had for him were the sort that leave their mark on the soul and never fade.
He wanted her to have the freedom to chose him or not, but the idiot could not see that choice had been made for her long ago. Peggy looked at him incredulously. How could he be so thick? She was honestly at a loss until she tried to see it from his point of view. In his mind he had seen her live a life without him, he alluded to things he wasn't saying, quite possibly out of generosity to her feelings.It surely was not a move born of ego as Steve rarely suffered that failing. So this was kindly meant and once again he was sacrificing himself, as he always would to save others.
"Steve,the choice was made long ago." She gently lifted his chin by a curled forefinger. "I watched a man who had been denied everything, berated and bruised and bullied; throw his own body on a grenade to save people who had treated him miserably." It didn't matter to her that the man was a ninety pound weakling of frail constitution. "I fell in love with that man that day, I'd been half in love even before that. But the nobility of the act, his desire to protect others with no thought of his own life..." How could she not have fallen for him?
"Whatever happens in my future, whatever you have known of me, know this; any life I had after you was a second choice. But it was one I made because of you. I realized after grieving for you that you wouldn't want me to live alone with your ghost for the rest of my life." She knew that it would come to pass she just wasn't ready for it, not yet. "Any chance, any time, any single moment I have with you now is everything to me, and if this is the only place we have it then I will hold on tight every bloody second I get. So I appreciate your honesty and your forthrightness, but the only reason I would step away from this chance is if you ask me to."
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He respectfully looks up at her direction, that severe line still between his brows. When he's serious he can almost look terrifying, so much older than a man with only 29 years of life experience. He's surprised she remembers that day. It could have been nothing but a footnote in a long line of rigorous testing for him, if not for the memory of her.
"I'm surprised you even saw me after the pin left that grenade," he says, breaking him of his frown. The way he remembers it, he's not the only one who went for the grenade. While everybody else was busy running from it, they wouldn't have noticed Peggy running towards it. When the dust and the adrenaline had cleared, Steve noticed. If he hadn't already respected the hell out of her, that would have done it. But replaying her next words shakes him out of his reverie, and supplants his affection with surprise. "Wait -- that day? You fell in love with me?"
But that was months before he ever had a clue, before he thought it could be possible... He looks dumbstruck again as it sinks in. If Tony were here, the reaction he'd be looking for is: ... huh.
It never occurred to him that he could be her first choice. Honor and nobility, protecting others, being self-sacrificing -- that was just what was done. It didn't make him anything special. It didn't even make him pause. She could have had anything she wanted, and he didn't realize until just now that what she wanted was him.
Jeepers.
He slowly smiles. It's not borne out of pride -- at least, it's not borne out of arrogance, but instead the awe of realizing that he didn't just win her heart, she gave it to him. He never lost it, it was just being taken care of while he was sleeping.
He looks down again. "I'm an idiot."
The self-deprecation is still in his crooked smirk, but it's getting broader every second. Realizing that she loves him even though he's stupid just makes him feel luckier than he already does.
He runs his thumb over her knuckles, shaking his head almost imperceptibly.
"I won't ask you to," he says, holding her gaze. "But in case you change your mind, I won't stop you. The world's a better place with Peggy Carter in it. I don't think I could measure up to your opinion of me if I denied them that."
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"Yes, but I have faith you'll grow out of it." She smiled at him, letting him ease down of the self flagellation for having missed the more obvious signs. "And yes, that day; you acted out of selfless courage. There aren't many people in the world who would have done what you did." What she also would have done if she'd had to. Well truth be told she would have tried to secure the area by removing the grenade rather than throwing herself on it. But they had different tacts in how they approached things.
"I'm glad you won't ask me to leave though, because right now I want to be here with you more than anything in the world." This was their chance, here and now. Life could happen when this ended, for now it was what she'd dreamed of and thought she could never have.
She let them pass a moment in silence, simply being with one another and neither having to make any further statements, apologies or declarations. It was comfortable, she could just be with him and not feel the need to be a leader or commander or fetch the coffee. She was just a woman with a man she loved.
"I suppose I should warn you that my eventual intentions may not be entirely noble." She tried to make it a joke, tried to lighten the mood and yet confirm her continued attraction and love for him, but how would he take it given all that had happened so quickly?
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But to believe his flavor of courage is selfless and unique? He led better men into battle who never came back out again. His father would have done the same thing. So would his mother. They both paid the ultimate price while serving their country. Steve's no better than them.
Except he's got the best gal in the world on his arm.
"I always hoped I'd see you again," he murmurs. Part of him dreaded it, too. He knew if fate ever gave him another chance he'd be tempted away from doing the right thing, but being with her feels so natural it couldn't possibly be wrong. He intertwines their fingers, the calloused pads of his fingertips carefully brushing each delicate bone in her hand.
There's so much left to say, but the silence doesn't feel uncomfortable. After all their waiting, the thing he ended up missing the most was just being with her.
Until she starts him thinking down another path altogether. His reaction isn't very obvious at first, just his eyes widening in confusion and then recognition, surprise, uncertainty, and finally something akin to alarm. But after that, an involuntary straightening of his spine precedes him clearing his throat, looking a little like a kid getting caught doodling in school.
"Right. I figured you were after the shield," he jokes, eyebrows arched. He tries to play it off so she won't guess at where his mind had gone off to, but there's a blush creeping up his neck that's going to give him away.
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Her own contributions were rarely recalled, but for her that was alright. She'd come to terms with having to measure her own worth and not need anyone else's approval for it. Her free hand covered his, an act so simple and yet not something they'd had the time to share before.
"No, I was always rather more interested in the man behind it." As hard as that might be for him to believe. No need to go into the imaginings of her late nights or the ways she might have envisioned things going if he had survived and come home.
"If you're not comfortable with the idea, it's not something I want you to feel pressured for." He hadn't resisted her kisses, nor had he fought off Private Loraine. But that didn't mean he was ready or willing to step further than that. Her respect for him was too great for her to ever presume, regardless of personal attraction.
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God help the first person to tell him about the Captain America radio show, or a choice number of those old comics. If he knew half of what she's been going through since the war he'd find a way to punch right through the time-space issue and have those producers and the S.S.R. schmucks pinned to a wall.
He smirks softly as she speaks on. He wasn't going to presume what she meant until she makes it pretty inescapable to him. Maybe it will surprise her that he doesn't hem and haw, shift around in his seat or act like a frightened puppy; the touch of her hand grounds him every bit as much as it excites him, and he thinks back to the dozens of times he wanted to hold her just like this and never took the chance.
"That's not gonna be a problem," he answers, exhaling a short laugh. She has to know how attracted he's always been to her. There weren't enough Hail Marys in the world to atone for the number of times his own late night imaginings took an intimate turn. While the other soldiers had Betty Grable and Rita Hayworth pinned to their tents and tucked into their breast pockets, Steve fell asleep picturing her dark eyes and full lips, confident she could chase off the horrors burned into his mind with just one sure, refined word. Peggy knows how soldiers can be, and Steve had months before the front lines touring with the USO girls. There's a difference between being inexperienced and wholesome-minded, and choosing to stay a gentleman for the right gal (and for his ma, who raised him to be the man Erskine saw and who, as it turns out, Peggy Carter fell for). He shyly looks away, free hand rubbing at his neck, but two years in the service and another two in the belly of "the future" has rounded off some of that kid from Brooklyn's blunt edges, and the difference between the kid who sat next to her in the back of a 1939 Buick Special and the guy sitting next to her now is visible in all the small ways he carries himself.
"It's just that ... I waited so long before, and yeah, now I could tell myself we'd be making up for lost time, not wasting another minute; I could sweep you up like Rhett Butler and carry you next door," he begins, pausing with one hand stretched toward his bedroom. It's like he realizes what he's saying for the first time and pulls his hand back, brow pinched and Adam's apple bobbing. "But, uh. But I don't want to rush into this, Peg. We've still got a lot to talk about, and you've always been ... "
Again, he's at a loss for words. Nothing in the dictionary could ever do her justice. "You deserve the best, and I want to do this right."
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"I don't mind waiting, and as you say there are things worth waiting for. So long as I know it's something we both want, and we both want it to be right." She smiled, it was a particular curl of lips that was reserved only for him. It spoke of her pride, her admiration and her surprise in him. He was an evolving and changing man in all the best ways and that was not something one treated improperly. Something likes good tea, fine wine, a home cooked meal or him were best when savored in their own time.
"So, let's talk." She sat back, her hands moving to her lap to give him space enough to feel like he could speak freely. She didn't want him to feel pressured or rushed, like him she too wanted this to be right. After being so long denied to them, this chance needed to be taken, but in it's proper time.
"What have you been up to in, what I can't believe I am saying but, the future." it was a question she both wanted to have an answer to and feared.
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He doesn't feel that way with Peggy. He trusts her with everything he is, and the fact that she still cares about him after all the things he's done wrong does give him confidence. And if he messes up again, at least his shield is close by. He's missed the way she smiles at him, and instead of that awkward uncertainty he used to answer with, he just smiles back a little more fondly. At least until she pulls her hands back, and he remembers where they are and why.
He clears his throat and settles back another few inches. Part of doing things right means not just courting her slowly, but making sure this is what she really wants. He's burdened with knowledge of the future he can't just forget, no matter how much he wants to. So he pulls his hand through his hair and takes a deep breath, exhaling it in a soft laugh.
"Well, you don't have to boil everything anymore, no polio, better food -- but they moved the Dodgers to L.A.," he says, making a face. "Actually, I uh. I work for S.H.I.E.L.D. They're the ones who -- 'woke me up'."
All colorful jokes about him being Sleeping Beauty or a giant Popsicle notwithstanding. It's still a strange thing to talk about as if it's just an everyday piece of information. "My partner's on the ship, actually. I know she'd like to meet you." Again.
And there's the someone responsible for Steve's change, though maybe not exactly in the way Peggy might have suspected.
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Though he is lucky that he has the shield, even if she was not making a habit of carrying a loaded weapon with her. Upon her arrival it had bean made very clear to her that it was not safe for such projectile weapons to be used on a starship. If they were surrounded by space it would make sense that they would have even more care take than air planes or submarines. He was safe on that front at least, and she highly doubted there would be a reason for any repeat performance, she had grown in year he'd been gone.
That movement and the following breath could not be good. She knew him well enough to see it was not a subject he was thrilled to be discussing. But she knew he would do what was right, he unfailingly seemed to.
"Steps in water purification is wonderful, and I would wager there have been a few medical advances. To know polio will no longer cripple children is wonderful." She demurred comment on the Dodgers as she was no great fan of American sports, she knew little enough to get by in police passing conversation and even more so when to play dumb.
Her eyes went wide that SHIELD had been responsible for his recovery. She only recently been drafting orders that the search not be shelved but ongoing, if only to bring the rest of him home where he belonged. Apparently that had worked in the end; an idea that left her joyful/
Which turned to an awkward somewhat faltering smile. "Partner?" She would want to meet Peggy. Of course, she'd been silly to think he wouldn't seek or be sought out for companionship. Perhaps he had found a great deal more freedom in the future than she had thought originally. "I'm sure I would be happy to meet her as well." She made her smile bright and slightly neutral, quickly adapting to the surprise.
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"Yeah, I mean -- to be honest, I think she's supposed to be more of a babysitter," he says, a little of that old familiar righteous indignation shading his wry smile. "But we've learned ways of trusting each other. Sort of. She's a spy, and you remember how bad I am with stuff like that."
Steve knows his strengths. Subtlety and misdirection are not among them. And while he would say that attention to detail is, he hasn't picked up on the hitch in her smile. It's maybe a credit to Peggy's acting ability, or the fact that Steve doesn't look at Natasha in that way. He knows the beautiful woman is there, but he always sees the fighter, survivor, and spy first.
One thing he does pick up on at least is the way her eyes widen when he mentions S.H.I.E.L.D. It hits him that maybe he's saying too much, even though she doesn't look upset. "I can talk about something other than S.H.I.E.L.D. You probably don't want to hear too much about that anyway."
And he wants to know everything about her life, too. Even if he has the advantage of knowing her future, it doesn't make up for the small moments he missed. Suddenly feeling overwhelmingly penitent, he shakes his head, brows pinched together.
"I'm sorry," he says, letting it hang between them for a second while he gathers his thoughts. "I know I said that already, but I need you to know how much I wanted to be there."
8 o'clock, on the dot.
don't you dare be late.
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"I'm just glad to know it continues on and that it has been a force for good in the world. Howard and I had such plans and hopes for it but... well you never really know when things are just starting out." Her hands lose a bit of the tightness in them and she can relax more. She had been inserted into places where keeping a cool head was necessary for survival so it would make something like this easier to conceal.
And then he looks so sorrowful, so apologetic that he had been taken from her time, her life. She could never be angry with him about it, and she never would blame him for his choices, he did what he felt was the right thing to save his country and by extension the world. "I would have wanted you there, I'd allowed myself plans and dreams of a potential future. I saw you in it," she licked her lips and smiled just at the corners of her lips. "I saw you as a large part of my life. But you saved so many that it didn't make sense for me to be upset that my personal dreams were curtailed. So I lived and tried to make that life mean something. I wanted it to be something you would be proud of if you could see me."
All of that, everything he has done since, they each had lives on the other side of all this. "Others have told me of people who come here and then leave, if I go back, will I remember what happened here?"
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For as remorseful as he is, and as sad as her responses make him, he feels strangely at home sitting beside her, comforted and gently amused. Even after everything she's said in the past hour, the idea that she imagined a life with him still knocks the air out of him as surely as a sucker punch. Sometimes he forgets how similar they are, how easily their thoughts align; that a big part of the reason he fell so hard and so fast is because she never told him to sit out the fight, to run away, thanking his lucky stars fate dealt him the hand that it did. She always supported his decisions or else gave him a damn good reason why he was being an idiot. She always had faith in him. And knowing that she could never be angry with him for the choice he made makes him love her all the more, because if he had it to do all over again he would do the exact same thing. He knows they both would.
It's who they are.
He glances down, flexing his jaw and giving his head a soft, abortive shake. When he looks up, he's found enough daring to reach for one of her perfect curls, rough fingers ever-so-gently stroking.
"Everything I've done since waking up, I've done because I wanted it to be something you'd be proud of." He could tell her that most days the only reason he's stuck with SHIELD is because of her. That even when he and Fury are at their most combative, he suffers the distrust and babysitting because Peggy believed in SHIELD, and Steve believes in Peggy. He could tell her that so far the only way he's managed to carve out meaning for himself is to go on living for her, Howard, the Commandos, Erskine -- to be the good man and the force for change he always wanted to be. But he says it all with a look instead.
He loves her, and it bleeds from him when she asks that last question with such depth in her eyes. Getting over her has been the hardest thing he's never done. He wants to say yes; he remembered enough to spend a few days in quarantine when Q sent him back, after all. But she was here before, and she doesn't remember anything. "I don't know," he answers honestly. "I don't think there's any guarantees."
As much as it might break their hearts.
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But there was something to the fact that he had held on to those feelings so far into the future with so many other distractions and possibilities, was flattering. And it offered her hope of things that might come of this future, in this strange new world.
Her wistful thoughts were cut shirt with his movement, she was sure he was simply wiping a piece of dust or perhaps an errant bit if fluff form her. But instead he touched her hair, there was no way to feel such contact be even so she had to remind herself to breathe. How was it men had laid on far more charm or been far more involved with her in the course of a mission and yet his slightest action elicited such a reaction from her. Howard would chalk it up to the laws of attraction or some such, with a salacious grin she was sure.
His answer is not what she might have wanted to hear, but it also held another promise. "Life has no guarantees anytime. But this at least provides us with a chance. And if I am to return to a life outside of this with no memory more than I had before then there is no way for anything here to interfere with any life I might have upon that return. What we have here, as I see it, is a situation in which the risk is as level as any we may ever have." And not trying would be more painful than any loss she could face from trying.
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He's young, and he's a little old-fashioned, but his feelings aren't a passing whim. They didn't need time on their side for him to figure out how he felt about her.
And even though he'd thought out every outcome, he'd somehow missed Peggy's conclusion. He opens his mouth and then stops, the weight of that realization sinking in. On the one hand, it lifts so much guilt and responsibility off his shoulders thinking that he won't disrupt her future; on the other, there's a quick jab of jealousy in his gut at the thought that she could go home and forget him and meet her ... other him. The opposing feelings war inside of him for a few moments until he gathers his wits, clearing his throat.
Life has no guarantees anytime. He puts on a smile for her, and looks up through his lashes. "Sounds practical."
He thinks about reaching for her hand again, but isn't sure if that would be too much too fast, so he leaves it resting by his side. If this is another act of rebellion -- against fate, against time -- he'll make it a good one.
"Do you want to go dancing sometime?"
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She was willing to give him whatever time he needed, as far as she was concerned he would always be the love of her life. She had given up on that dream before, but never on the attachment of her feelings.
"Love should be anything but practical. Like falling for a man who looked like he could be knocked over by a stiff breeze." She countered. "But somethings just happen." Not that she regretted it at all, Steve had always been exceptional even if it hadn't always been for his physicality. At least she had seen what more there was to him, she felt lucky to have been in the place to do so.
His invitation was, well it was shocking. It took her a few moments to process and a few more to do more than smile delightedly back at him. "I'd like that, very much."
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"You won't have to worry about stiff breezes anymore," he says, coming back up for air. His eyes are dancing with merriment, although the way he feels is caught somewhere between pride that he's bigger and stronger, and wistfulness for that kid he used to be. He was never ashamed of who he was, he just wanted to do more. "If I have it my way, you won't have to worry about anything else for as long as you have to live."
As sappy as it is, he's as genuine as they come. Whatever happens between them, all he really wants is to make her happy. And the way she reacts? Boy, it makes him the happiest Joe on this ship. That smile on his face isn't going anywhere anytime soon.
"O-OK," he stammers, breathing a laugh. "I still don't know my right foot from my left, but if we're picking up where we left off, I've got time to learn."
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She didn't think either of them had much to worry about anymore. At least here, there seemed to be little that they were facing that was worse than they had already seen. This star-ship was something new for them both, more-so for her but it was beyond anything either of them had imagined. It seemed fitting for a new start in a new place and a new era.
And his declaration of..of what? It wasn't love per-say but it was surely more than friendship. She reached out and took his hand, her fingers laced with his and the other closed over the top.
"I'll teach you." She'd said it before but this time there was more assurance in her tone. This wasn't saying goodbye, this was greeting a new life; together. "There is so much I would love to show you."
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He watches her hands, the way her fingers fit between his, the way their callouses match, how she embraces them with her free hand like something ... precious. Even with the first time she said those words echoing in his memory, he feels hopeful for the first time in years, in a way it's hard to pinpoint. It's like a feeling that he's ...
Home.
He runs his fingertips along the delicate bones of her hand, cradling their linked hands for a moment. Just a heartbeat, and then he's reaching for her jawline again, looking at her the way a dying man looks at heaven. Thumb grazing her cheek, he kisses her. It doesn't presume, it's gentlemanly to the point of being chaste, but it's filled with so much tenderness.
"Me too," he murmurs once he's pulled away, fighting the childlike urge to grin like an idiot. His cheeks are a little red. "There's nothing else pulling me away, so why don't we start now?"
For the first time, there are no interruptions. No gunfire, no grenades, no meetings, no missions. They can start right now. "I mean, not the dancing. Or we could -- I wouldn't complain. I mean ... Friday night. 8 o'clock. I'll -- I'll take you to dinner. Like a -- like a proper ... date."
And there's that hopelessly shy side of him again.
"But I mean, right now ... have you seen all of the ship? I could show you. I could even show you what it looks like in 2014 back home."
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And then he kissed her, it wasn't fumbling or heated. There was nothing about it that forced or took, or demanded. It was like truth poured from him to her, open and honest with his heart. She made a soft sound and returned the kiss gently, her hand briefly moving to rest over his heart.
It was over in a moment, but it left an impression. Steve might not have vast amounts of experience with women but he was hitting all the right buttons with her. His spirit, his integrity had drawn her to him and he had manged to fold that into a kiss, well done Captain, well done.
He was speaking and she was listening with half an ear as her mind was lazily drinking him in, she almost missed what it was he was saying and scrambled to catch up to the conversation. A real date, something neither of them had had time for and both had dreamed of in their own way. His very suggestion was enough to have that smile pushing her cheeks higher and a bit of a red flush rise to her cheeks.
"We have time, I would like to be able to do things right this time. We don't need to rush or hide and we are both rational adults." They could set whatever pace they wanted and beholden to no one but themselves. She gave his hand a squeeze.
"No, I haven't seen beyond sick bay and my quarters really, today was the day I'd planned to find something to occupy myself." A plan which had worked far better than she could have dreamed.
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He doesn't realize he's still grinning even after they've parted, his eyes caught up in her and his mind all tied in knots. He can barely think of anything at all besides the warmth of her hand on his chest. But her sensibleness finally brings him back to a little reason, and he clears his throat and tries to look serious.
"We are," he nods, with a good deal of respect in his voice. "If we were anything else, I'd expect Sister Margaret would have already been by to break us up. You know you're safe with me."
He covers her hand with his, and gives her fingers a squeeze. He means it in more ways than one -- whatever the days bring, he'll always put her first. "Can I escort you around the ship? There's an observation deck that will take your breath away, and if you don't know what the holodecks are yet -- well, you kind of have to see them to believe them."
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"Sister Margaret?" She blinked for a moment wondering if there was something or someone she needed to be aware of. But then it dawned on her it was likely a joke from his upbringing. Sher seemed to recall him talking about such strict school mistresses or other.
"I know I'm safe with you, in every possible way save one, Steve." She spoke softly and with a gravity to her words. "Because I'm afraid you've already stolen my heart, you thief." The last given with a light mirthful laugh and a mischievous sparkle in her dark eyes.
"I'd love to tour the ship with you, since I suppose this is our new home. I mean for all of us here, not just you and I." Oh the thoughts she'd had though. Picket fences and toe headed children running in the yard and playing on a tire swing. She'd conjured images from idyllic pictures in imagines; what life could have been like if things had gone differently.
"Show me, Steve, I want to see everything with you."