[ so! mistakes were made. namely, the kind of mistakes where one tells a certain red-headed spy altogether too much. it's a wonder peggy manages to crawl into bed at all, considering the waves of distraction and disappointment cresting over her mood. but, eventually, she's coaxed to bed.
but she doesn't sleep. she's still treading and retreading that something steve had refused to name. something ruined, akin to her punching bag, and she keeps playing the moment over in her head as he walks to the drawer and...
the drawer.
in a struggle to sit up, she starts pawing at his arms locked affectionately around her middle. in the end, it takes an elbow jammed against his ribs to gain some measure of freedom from her clingy first mate. she nudges him awake -- and none too gently. ]
no subject
but she doesn't sleep. she's still treading and retreading that something steve had refused to name. something ruined, akin to her punching bag, and she keeps playing the moment over in her head as he walks to the drawer and...
the drawer.
in a struggle to sit up, she starts pawing at his arms locked affectionately around her middle. in the end, it takes an elbow jammed against his ribs to gain some measure of freedom from her clingy first mate. she nudges him awake -- and none too gently. ]
I figured it out. And you're wrong.
[ it might be just shy of three am. ]