uprightness | ɪᴄ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴀᴄᴛ

[ she raises a very threatening!!! fist. along with an eyebrow. ]

Good. That would make it easier to box you in'em.

[ your ears. ]

[ he arches his eyebrows right back; evidently curious, now. ]

You know if you wanted to spar, I wouldn't have minded. Probably best to put away that tea-cup, though.

[ ever so amused. ]

[ -- she hadn't been serious. but. ]

Us? Sparring? [ watch her as she chews it over. considers it, earnestly. must be a christmas miracle. ] That'd end badly, surely.

[ surely??? ]

That's not a no.

[ he should have known his winning card will have to involve adrenaline rather than hot chocolate and cuddles. of course this might be the thing that works. ]

I mean, we already exchanged presents.

[ why not fists, really. ]

[ a little surprised, really. but definitely not a no. ] There's no way you can win, Steve.

[ a bold claim! and it looks as though she believes it. peggy carter things she can take steve rogers. hand-to-hand. ]

Really?

[ it seems to be his turn to huff. he folds his arms. ]

And if I do? What's it gonna be?

[ it seems to be a tradition by now, these wagers of theirs. ]

[ she likes this. very much. the back-and-forth. the negotiation. she falls into it far easier than she does gentler gestures.

whip-quick: ] If you win, the day is yours. We'll be as disgustingly festive as you like. No further protests.

[ well maybe SOME protests. ]

And if I lose?

[ though with these terms, he's rather determined not to. ]

Depends. [ ... ] What are you willing to lay on the table?

[ so to speak. ]

Depends.

[ he counters, doesn't miss a beat. ]

You offered me what I want, what do you want?

[ she bites down on her first felt answer. peggy nearly wagered that he should just go ahead and move into her quarters -- still a little lost in the lingering memory of sharing a room together on corona. but no, it's too soon. too quick. that's a question for another day -- and certainly one too important to be touted as stakes in a sparring match.

instead, buying herself a moment: ] I -- I'm not certain.

[ that's a first, but he says nothing, tilts his head at her with a small smile. ]

I guess you'll have to think about then if I ever do lose. Doesn't seem likely, though.

[ carefully, she replaces the tea-cup in its box. they are exquisite. really, she ought to show more gratitude. but instead, she's gone and dug herself into this awkward little standoffish hole.

turning towards the door, she hedges: ] I know Winn gave you a bottle of that high-powered spirits for Christmas. Maybe that should be my stakes.

The bottle?

[ he arches both eyebrows, clearly confused. ]

You know he put a warning on that bottle for a reason.

Not for me. If I win, you'll drink with me tonight. [ ... ] Me, with the bottle of whatever Eugene brewed up in his still. And you with yours.

...alright. I'll accept those terms.

[ though god only knows how strong that stuff is and that could result in blackmailing material for her and a rather big headache for him but it is what it is. ]

If I lose, we'll do that.

[ with a satisfied nod, she waits for him in the hallway. there's an eagerness in her posture that almost embarrasses her. peggy isn't given to joyful violence, exactly, but it's hard not to anticipate enjoying a tussle with steve. ]

Must we shake on it? Or have we moved beyond needing such things.

Well beyond that.

[ but he looks so amused, almost on verge of laughter. ]

Peggy -

[ he looks above her, to the lights he worked so hard on hanging. he may have hung a few of those mistletoe on the wires. he is somewhat torn between feeling entirely too pleased with himself and slightly horrified that she might actually punch him for this little trick. ]

[ her chin lifts. she examines the space above her head and! ] Oh, for -- [ peggy rolls her eyes. certainly, the instinct to (as barnes had put it) ring his bell a few times surfaces. but she resists; there'll be time enough for that in the cargo bay.

for now, she might as well try and press a slim tactical advantage. peggy crooks her finger -- calling him nearer, to join her under the sprig of green. ]

Yeah, I know.

[ he nods, settles for simply being pleased with himself, for now. It's not a trick that will last; she'll find the others and remove them, too. just one victory, better make the best of it. ]

But you really shouldn't argue with holiday traditions.

[ he reasons, wrapping an arm around her waist, swaying just a bit, an intimate little dance. ]

[ she spreads her hands gently across his chest. peggy steps forward, claiming the space between them. she even indulges him his mild sway before using the minimal momentum to tip forward and kiss him. quite a keen kiss, too, despite the public nature of the hallway. ]

Enjoy them while you can, I suppose.

[ this is the no-longer-hidden truth laying beneath layers of professionalism and banter. peel those off and there's something else entirely; a gentle sway to a non-existent tune, a kiss of a far more fiery nature and a familiar sort of rush that makes him answer her dryer response with another one, a stolen sort of kiss, a shade more playful, an instinctive response to her words. she did say enjoy them, after all. ]

I probably should, you're going to punch me in a couple of minutes.

[ might as well enjoy this little moment while he has it. ]

[ -- she curls her fingers against his chest, snagging his shirt in a loose fist. doesn't hurt to take a little enjoyment for herself, deepening the kiss for a heartbeat or two before she retreats.

and clarifies: ] I plan to do more than punch you, darling. You'll end up flat on your back.

[ the battle has already started; he just may not have realized it yet. ]

[ he allows himself another moment to enjoy this, her in his arms, the way her voice curls around that one word, darling before he realizes she's trying to distract him and worse, it seems to work. ]

You're very confident. What's gonna happen when you lose? You'll take it all back?

[ it's entirely possible (perhaps even likely!) that she'll lose. doesn't matter; she wears her confidence on her sleeve. it keeps the stakes high. maintains a playful atmosphere, too, because in the end there's no pride lost if she doesn't win. she's taken out men of his size and stature before: it's the serum that makes the field uneven.

she ghosts her fingers across his jaw. down his neck. ] I'll eat crow. But I'm not going to lose.

[ and if she does, she'll have had a good time of it all the same. ]

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