[ Steve's voice is just as soft when he replies, shifting in his position to fit against Peggy a little more comfortably and press his lips into her hair. He holds her close, a little distracted from his original task of drawing her, at least for the time being now that everything's been brought out in the open and they can do things like this.
She kisses the edge of his mouth and runs her fingers through his hair. All he wants to do is bask in this bliss for the rest of his days; it feels like some kind of a dream. ]
[ He shifts and so does she, enough that she can lean in against him with her arm slung around his waist. Her free hand reaches up to swipe the smudge of colour from his lips with her thumb, quietly amused by it. She doesn't find any particular need to speak again, content to just sit with him and watch the ocean roll in and out, the distant conversation and laughter of other beachgoers, the open air.
Maybe watch the sunset together, that would be lovely.
It's a little peace and quiet before returning to the bustle of Olympia and their cramped little apartment. They'll sort through that mess in due course. But for now, this is more than enough. Peggy takes a deep breath, closes her eyes, and settles her head on his shoulder; everything else, every worry that's been rattling around inside of her since waking up in this new world, goes still and quiet at last. ]
[ Steve drapes his arm across her shoulders, one hand gently rubbing her arm almost absent-mindedly as though they've done this a hundred times before. When she settles her head on his shoulder, he leans in to rest his head atop hers, the two of them facing the ocean and the great, wide, alien beyond before them.
The sound of the crashing waves cresting and being swallowed back up by the ocean is a soothing sound, familiar because the ocean sounded like this on Earth too. For a second he can imagine they're somewhere back home and neither of them had to lose the other to finally be together again. It's foolish, of course, because this planet is their home now but it's still something he needs to get used to.
He chuckles softly to himself, thinking of something else he isn't quite used to as far as relationships go - names and labels. ]
[ Peggy Carter belongs to no one. But this is different and she huffs out a laugh at how quaint that sounds. This is a snippet from another life and she doesn't think that will ever stop feeling borrowed.
She doesn't lift her head to look at him, nor does she open her eyes, but her low murmur is meant for his ears and his alone. ]
[ Because, yeah, Steve absolutely acknowledges that Peggy Carter belongs to no one but herself. He wouldn't really presume otherwise.
The old-fashioned term is one he can't quite shake either, not even after spending time with Natasha Romanoff and Sam Wilson, listening to Bruce Banner and Thor talk about their significant others, referring to them as their 'girlfriend' or their 'partner'.
Some words just feel too different on his tongue. His 'girl' and her 'fella' still make the most sense, still feel like the most appropriate term to use when talking about things like this.
(And to be fair, Steve's never really had a conversation like this before.) ]
[ It's so easy to call him that. She'd slipped just a few minutes earlier, before anything had been set in stone, because she's always called him that in her mind after the war. Whenever she glanced at the old black and white photograph of him from before the serum, when she bade him farewell on the Brooklyn bridge at sunset.
[ Steve had noticed that, figured maybe it was just a term of endearment that she started to use after he'd - well, after everything. Either way, he didn't think too much of it, and still isn't thinking too much of it.
There are other more important responses to consider anyway. Like the one that makes him smile, wide and bright and happy. ]
Body and soul. [ Steve echoes, squeezing her gently. ]
[ She grins, finally glancing up. The amusement is palpable, she feels ridiculous for how giddy this makes her feel; almost like a school girl — excusable, during the war. She'd been so much younger then. They both had been. But now they've spent some years apart, grown into the people they are now, and learned to navigate what changes or differences that might mean between them. It's a challenge she's regretted never facing and she's glad to meet it head on now. Whatever that means, whatever it takes. ]
As if there's ever been any doubt. [ She leans up to kiss the line of his jaw, another faint stamp of red lipstick left behind. And then, teasing: ] So are we just going to sit here or are you still interested in sketching out your finest masterpiece?
[ Maybe a part of Steve had always figured that so much time had passed and they'd both become such different people within that time that their chance had come and gone. He's glad to be proven wrong in this, and hell, in some small, silly way, he's glad to know that there's some truth to a lot of the love songs he'd been educating himself with over the past couple years.
He's never been more grateful.
He laughs a little when he retrieves his sketchbook and pencil, heavily neglected in the face of much more important and frankly life-changing conversations. He nods, mouth quirking with amusement. ]
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[ Steve's voice is just as soft when he replies, shifting in his position to fit against Peggy a little more comfortably and press his lips into her hair. He holds her close, a little distracted from his original task of drawing her, at least for the time being now that everything's been brought out in the open and they can do things like this.
She kisses the edge of his mouth and runs her fingers through his hair. All he wants to do is bask in this bliss for the rest of his days; it feels like some kind of a dream. ]
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Maybe watch the sunset together, that would be lovely.
It's a little peace and quiet before returning to the bustle of Olympia and their cramped little apartment. They'll sort through that mess in due course. But for now, this is more than enough. Peggy takes a deep breath, closes her eyes, and settles her head on his shoulder; everything else, every worry that's been rattling around inside of her since waking up in this new world, goes still and quiet at last. ]
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The sound of the crashing waves cresting and being swallowed back up by the ocean is a soothing sound, familiar because the ocean sounded like this on Earth too. For a second he can imagine they're somewhere back home and neither of them had to lose the other to finally be together again. It's foolish, of course, because this planet is their home now but it's still something he needs to get used to.
He chuckles softly to himself, thinking of something else he isn't quite used to as far as relationships go - names and labels. ]
Does this officially make you my girl, then?
[ He's honestly never had a girlfriend before. ]
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She doesn't lift her head to look at him, nor does she open her eyes, but her low murmur is meant for his ears and his alone. ]
Are you asking me to be?
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[ Because, yeah, Steve absolutely acknowledges that Peggy Carter belongs to no one but herself. He wouldn't really presume otherwise.
The old-fashioned term is one he can't quite shake either, not even after spending time with Natasha Romanoff and Sam Wilson, listening to Bruce Banner and Thor talk about their significant others, referring to them as their 'girlfriend' or their 'partner'.
Some words just feel too different on his tongue. His 'girl' and her 'fella' still make the most sense, still feel like the most appropriate term to use when talking about things like this.
(And to be fair, Steve's never really had a conversation like this before.) ]
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[ It's so easy to call him that. She'd slipped just a few minutes earlier, before anything had been set in stone, because she's always called him that in her mind after the war. Whenever she glanced at the old black and white photograph of him from before the serum, when she bade him farewell on the Brooklyn bridge at sunset.
And now. ]
Of course I'd have you, body and soul.
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There are other more important responses to consider anyway. Like the one that makes him smile, wide and bright and happy. ]
Body and soul. [ Steve echoes, squeezing her gently. ]
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As if there's ever been any doubt. [ She leans up to kiss the line of his jaw, another faint stamp of red lipstick left behind. And then, teasing: ] So are we just going to sit here or are you still interested in sketching out your finest masterpiece?
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He's never been more grateful.
He laughs a little when he retrieves his sketchbook and pencil, heavily neglected in the face of much more important and frankly life-changing conversations. He nods, mouth quirking with amusement. ]
I'm game if you are.