uprightness | ɪᴄ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴀᴄᴛ

[ it does feel a bit like Christmas.

The location isn't bad and some of the restaurants sell something that passes itself for hot chocolate, some of the ships he visited for gift-giving are decorated with little lights and handmade christmas trees. it seems that, despite the circumstances, people seem to have done a lot to create a fitting atmosphere for the holiday. having left with a pile of presents to distribute, he returns with his own, a batch of red and white twinkle lights and a rather good mood. Lights are hung and presents are put neatly on his bedside table, he's quite ready to look for Christmas songs on the communicator's database when he notices he might have forgotten one.

no card, well that just can't be but as much as he goes through his things, he can't seem to find one that has been misplaced. frowning, he unwraps it. it takes a moment or two of curious flipping of pages before he smiles and places it at the top of the pile.

reaching beneath the bed, he fishes out a box wrapped in paper - with the lack of wrappings he had taken to draw a pattern on his own, this one is white with pale blue snowflakes - and goes to knock on her door.

they might not teach people in Britain the art of trading presents but he refuses to let her get away with getting hers the traditional way. ]

[ apart from the vanity table -- crowded with the beauty bits and bobs she's collected from their stops -- peggy's quarters remain spartan. she hasn't decorated for the season. her door is closed when he arrives, but after the knock she calls out a quick hold on! and it takes a good two minutes before she answers.

she must have been in the process of dressing because although she's mostly put together, she's not wearing any shoes. it's a circumstance she's quick to regret once the door's open and she sees her statuesque boyfriend (for lack of a better term) standing on the other side.

hm. although she's in a pleasant mood, she doesn't rush to smile. but she does step to the side and invite him to enter with sweet of her arm. ]

'Llo. [ suspiciously casual. ]

[ fun fact, steve doesn't actually know anyone who doesn't abide by Christmas cards and so guessing who is it that seemed content with simply leaving a gift anonymously is not actually that difficult. however, it seems that he has misjudged the severity ( or the comical aroma ) of the situation as it doesn't seem Peggy hurries to take responsibility for her gift.

Honestly, Steve has dubbed this woman his best girl for a reason but sometimes she's simply so odd. He humors her, however, for the next few minutes, at least. ]

Hi - happy Christmas - you should see what some of the people did on their ships, it's really something.

Is that none-too-thinly veiled criticism I hear?

[ she relents -- and makes a point of closing the door behind him. she stays, there, with her back to the exit. peggy does wonder whether he means it as criticism. after all, she is the captain of this ship. ]

Not at all, the lights look great.

[ and evidently that's his way of telling her, subtle as always, that one. ]

[ hmph. she leans back against the door and crosses her arms over her chest. ]

-- It gets out of hand, [ she 'suggests' in a tone that's anything but suggestive. ] Gets gaudy.

[ ah-ha, so it's a battle against the Christmas spirit that's what it is. ]

I think it'll be a bit difficult to achieve gaudy around here. Not enough tinsel.

[ no tinsel at all, tragically. ]

[ her eyes narrow ever so slightly. ]

Are you the one who keeps replacing the mistletoe above my door? [ she suspects he didn't bring it onto the ship int he first place -- knows he didn't, actually. but peggy guesses he's been perpetuating the problem. ]

[ the easiest, sunniest of little grins. ]

I'm not sure what you're talking about.

[ there are times -- like this time -- when she wishes he wouldn't smile so easily. peggy likes it too much: his smile, cracking open his face inviting so much sunshine in. her own mouth pinches closed, as though she's actively resisting the instinct to smile back. so far, she's ignoring the wrapped package in his care. ]

You're still a terrible liar.

Some things don't change.

[ besides, at least it got her attention. it's a battle of wills at this point and Steve is determined to see this one through and rope her into the spirit of the holiday.

speaking of which, ]

What would you have done if I'd mistaken that gift and thought it was from Wanda or - Kara?

[ seriously, since when do we not send cards? ]

I'd have asked you why on earth you thought either of them were gifting you romantic poetry. [ dry as dry can be. ] And then I would've called you an idiot.

[ nothing about those poems speak to mere friendship -- and perhaps she'd leaned heavily upon his literary pursuits so that he might remember the circumstances of the poet and her husband. ]

[ there's no helping it, he smiles again. honestly, she has a point and a rather valid one, too but there's something in the way he smiles at her that implies that he finds his indignation, much like her annoyance, rather endearing.

cute, as he once told her. absolutely cute. ]

Thank you, by the way, it's wonderful.

I used to think of nothing when I read them. [ at school, of course. where else? middle sixth, before the war broke out, and she was just starting to find her way to being a young woman. but even as she admits it, now, she sounds sullen. like it's over-sharing. ] Now I think of you. Can't bloody well be helped.

[ vexed, as though she blames him for it. peggy clears her throat. ] Wouldn't know what to write on the card; the verses themselves already say it all.

[ he watches her for a long moment, feels the softening even when it's accompanied by something a bit sharper. they say more these days but it's still a bit of a learning experience. it's a terrible sort of fear, the one that nags at the back of his mind, just how happy he'll be allowed to be with her before fate decides to deal them heartbreak again. it's the sort of thought that must be actively fought or else - what? is there a point to being the same here and at home, to know what is missing and not seizing it as long as one is allowed?

he had spent far too many moments wishing he could have one more day, one more conversation, to let these worries get the better of him, them. his hand finds hers, thumb following the familiar line of the inside of her wrist and then he offers her the box. ]

well? won't you open it?

[ it supplied him with precious hours of being occupied, her gift. some things, while very basic and taken for granted at home, are not found in extent on the fleet. it's been some weeks ago when he found a simple yet tired looking china set in the game room. tired-looking or not, he worked to get his hands on it and once he did, well. the upgrading job has been relaxing, hours spent in the artistic center aboard the Iskaulit repainting it white and then sketching four different patterns before finally deciding to paint a simple floral one. now, it's a matching little set of four tea cups that he figured will be put to good use since god knows she refuses to offer guests anything but. ]

[ -- he's too sweet, she decides. too obliging. and when she tears the paper (despite its care and artistry) she does so knowing that whatever's inside this box will be something chosen -- or made -- with just as much care. indeed, she can tell immediately that the flowers are his handiwork.

balancing the box against the flat of her palm, she touches the tips of two fingers to her lips. ] Steve, [ she says his name with feeling. almost as though she's about to scold him for the lengths he's taken. ]

They're beautiful.

[ and this is why she'd wanted to leave her gift and flee. she isn't good at this part -- the part where she's overwhelmed with feelings. ]

[ it's all that much easier when one can shop for presents but steve actually prefers putting work into his, making it into a project of a sort. He watches her expression, the press of fingers to lips. His voice softens, his words are quiet, kept between them. ]

Happy Christmas, Peggy.

-- They almost look too fine to use.

[ almost. except peggy isn't the kind of woman who puts china up on the shelf and refuses to touch it. things exist to be used, not to be treasured into redundancy. she steps past him and sets the box on the foot of her bed so she can pluck one single cup from where it's nestled. ]

Luckily, only almost.

[ he gestures towards the cup that's currently being held between her fingers. ]

Christmas breakfast tea?

Depends. [ a clearing of her throat. ] Are you planning to make the breakfast, too?

[ because peggy doesn't cook. ]

[ one thing he did learn, there is only one right answer to question like these, ]

Well, we got enough stuff from the hotel to make sure it won't be the usual sort.

[ meaning, protein in different shapes and acquired tastes. ]

At least it takes some of the sting from being less a cook, now.

I admit, I bought as much food as the fridge could take. Maybe some of it will last after we leave this place - it'll make up for us not having a cook.

[ though his frown indicates that he's nearing the point of saying 'to hell with it' and taking the duty onto himself. ]

[ she sees that look on steve's face. her head tilts -- almost shakes. as though she's prepared to use captain privileges and put her foot down. it doesn't quite occur to to ask whether he'd enjoy that duty. after all, it's not as though tending the starstruck's security is a 24/7 responsibility. ]

No. [ she hesitates. ] I can see your thoughts as plain as day on your face, Steve.

Having one person in charge of the kitchen will at least make sure all the supplies are kept in check, it makes sense.

[ evidently, the first strategy is reasoning with her on that front. ]

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