ɪᴄ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴀᴄᴛ

[uprightness]

STEVE ROGERS;

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[mucked]

[ a date. she nearly confirms -- wry and unimpressed. but she'd agreed to it; hell, she welcomes it. and although she can't say so in hard real words, she misses something found in their mornings together aboard the starstruck. they aren't perfect and she doesn't always enjoy being pulled and kept and barred from getting on with her day. but they are far far far better than being lonely.

her nose crinkles when he turns sentimental again. ]

You're hardly impartial.

[ but the compliment is nice enough. she'd never be caught lingering with anyone else with so little polish put in place. even if that polish is simply combat boots and a practical plait. ]

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[uprightness]

You're right.

[ though whenever he relents so easily he also offers some sort of sassy commentary. Today isn't different. Steve could tell her he thinks her most beautiful without her armor, he could probably be bolder and add and fewer clothes and get away with murder.

Instead, he leans in, bumps his nose against hers. ]

If you're really doubting me, we could take a poll.

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[mucked]

[ her response begins as a grumble -- moody and contrarian, in spite of how honey-sweet the morning's been thus far. peggy knows he's got his sights set on riling her.

(it's working.)

for months, now, he's been coiling his arguments around the absurd idea that they should treat their relationship like a public thing: to be announced, alluded to, acknowledged. and peggy has taken small steps to that end. but does it really matter? anyone whose opinion they care about already knows and doesn't need to be told. and if there's someone left in the dark, they soon won't be once the nightly dream-rooms get through with them. ]

We could. [ she huffs, tweaking the cuff of his ear. his head stays near; she looks him in his eyes. ] But we won't. You won't.

[ don't you even dare. ]