"It's non-negotiable."
"Howard, I'm not arguing about this."
"Actually you are. And I'm tired of it. I don't give a shit. You're going. I've already bought the ticket."
"Sell it back—"
"No. You're going, Peggy. It's paid vacation time. You're going."
"I don't need vacation time. I need to work."
"Yeah, I've been letting you do your work for almost two years. Waiting for you actually to allow the grief to hit that you've shoved it into a corner—"
"Howard—"
"And I'm tired of watching you be miserable. So you're going."
"I'm not miserable—"
"Ha!"
"I'm not! I'm just doing my job!"
"In order to avoid dealing with your grief—"
"No, I'm doing my job to do my job!"
"I don't freaking understand you people!" Howard snaps, throwing his hands up, "why am I, the rich maniac, having to convince my own damn employees to take their legally allotted vacation time!"
"Employees? Plural?"
"Yes!" Howard huffs, "there's three of you that I'm forcing onto this cruise and I'm not taking no for an answer from any of you! Do you know how legal is on my ass about people not taking their vacation time!? It's a legal thing, Pegs!"
She narrows her eyes, "you're lying."
"Listen, maybe it's not yet, but it will be! A company where the people don't feel like they can leave for vacation? That's bad for business! You gotta listen to me. People need a break. Humans need a break. And contrary to your belief, you are a human, Pegs—"
"Howard—"
"I'll call Phillips."
Peggy stops. "You wouldn't dare."
Howard leans forward, a strange determined gleam in his eye, "usually you're right. Today though… you're wrong."
It's a long minute as she searches his face, seeing if he's bluffing. But he's not. Not today.
She huffs out her discontent. "When does it sail?"
He shoves an entire packet into her hands. Airline tickets, cruise pass, even some excursions booked. "You leave the day after tomorrow."
—-
She sets her things in her room and is drawn to the balcony. She unlocks the door and slides it open, hearing the sounds of the port and ship as it prepares for departure. She sends a picture of herself flipping off the camera to Howard who simply responds with the thumbs up emoji and she rolls her eyes.
Her view is of the dock below with the bustle of people boarding the ship and the ropes being attended to. Someone waves in her direction, a small child she thinks (from that distance it's hard to tell) and she waves back. A door to her left opens up and a woman exits onto the balcony beside her. Peggy greets her with a small nod and the woman nods back. After the horns blow and the ship starts to depart she takes a deep breath and decides that she's going to take his advice and actually try to enjoy this vacation.
—-
At muster she learns where her emergency craft is located that she's assigned to, and how to utilize a life raft and vest. She rolls her eyes at that one but says nothing. Safety is indeed first.
—
As the ship is a few hours into its sailing, she enjoys the sun and walks around, exploring the decks and making a note of the things she'd like to do during her time on the ship. She returns to her room and checks her schedule, seeing that her dinner time is 8p.m. She takes a shower to wash off the sunscreen and the salt of the day.
Peggy dawns a light summer dress, curls her hair, applies a thin layer of makeup to feel presentable and heads down to the restaurant.
—-
She's seated quickly, a table set for 6 people. Although only two other people have gotten there before her. A nice couple who seems to be on their honeymoon.
Fantastic.
She learns their names and shares her own. But not her last. "I'm Peggy." She says with her trademark easy-to-believe-and-never-question-me-I'm-just-a-dumb-female smile.
Thankfully a fourth person joins them, and then a fifth person approaches. After the waiter takes their orders, a woman at the table leans forward, "I'm so sorry but I can't have 12 days of silent dinners or awkward because we don't know each other. So I'll break the ice. I'm Kia. I'm on this trip because I got a promotion at work and won this trip. Next." She gestures to the man next to her and beside Peggy. "You go."
"Oh—" He seems caught off guard but then pushes his hair back and looks at the table, "I'm Steve and I'm here for vacation."
Alone? She wants to ask. But he then looks at her, "next?"
She grins, "I'm Peggy, and I'm also just here for vacation."
She gestures to the couple.
"I'm Andy," the girl starts, "and this is my husband Liam, and we're on our honeymoon!"
All three of them share mild congratulations and thankfully Kia starts with the questions. "So where did you two meet?"
Peggy tunes out relatively quickly. Her skills allowing her to know when to nod or smile or say 'aw' at appropriate times as she eats her dinner.
It takes her a few seconds but a soft sound catches her attention and she looks over to see the man beside her is chewing on a piece of bread that is in one hand, while holding a pen against the table in another. She leans just a tad to see what he's writing only to find out that he's drawing something. It looks like a logo or design of some kind but she can't see the majority as it's blocked by his plate.
"And what about you all?" Andy asks, "are you all… single?"
Peggy wants to roll her eyes but she instead leans forward and grabs another roll from the middle of the table, looking over at Kia with a you-started-this look.
"I'm not." Kia says, "my fiance is on his own trip for business but this was a free trip so I wasn't going to say no."
She looks at the man who nods, "yep, I am." Then he's back to eating and sketching.
"Same." Peggy says with a raised eyebrow, if the man can admit it, then so can she. "Sort of a workaholic."
The group nods as if that's an acceptable reason to be alone and the conversation turns to something less tiring.
—-
That evening, she finds herself strolling the deck. The air is pleasant and the breeze is lovely. The music and noise from the crowds is a muffled sound that creates a sort of cozy ambiance. She's still in her dinner dress and it moves against her legs, allowing air to brush along her upper thighs.
She passes couples of every age and families and groups of friends. She's just thinking of heading back to her room when she sees a familiar head of hair.
The blonde man, Steve, from the dinner table, sits on a lounge chair, knees propped up and a sketch book resting there. He's focused as his hand moves along the page and her curiosity gets the better of her.
She strolls forward and pauses, "Steve, right?"
He looks up, catching sight of her and blinking, "uh—" he starts eloquently before clearing his throat and nodding, "yeah— yes, I'm Steve."
She grins at his nerves and points to the lounge chair next to him, "may I?"
Surprise flits across his face but he nods, "oh, yeah, sure, of course."
She settles down and looks over, "I noticed you drawing at dinner, and here you are with an actual sketch pad. Are you an artist?"
He smiles, "yeah, I am. I work in design."
"Fashion?" She teases, but he just smiles and chuckles.
"I have drawn a dress or two I was proud of, but no I'm more of a logo, marketing, and aesthetic guy."
"so you draw things that look pretty and the logos to sell it."
He winces in good natured humor, "pretty much."
"Is that what you're doing now? Working while on vacation?"
He shakes his head, "no, no, I was…" he gestures to the deck in front of them and the curve of the railing and the sea beyond, "just doodling."
"Might I have a look?" He pauses but then nods, "uh, yeah… sure, okay." He angles the drawing towards her and she smiles.
"It's lovely. You've managed to capture the depth and shadows in a magical way."
He raises an eyebrow, "are you an artist too?"
She snorts and then covers her mouth, "far from it. I work mostly in security."
"Is that an exciting job? You like it?"
The sincerity in his question surprises her, and she finds herself studying his face as she takes a moment to collect her answer. Pale skin and light blonde hair frame deep blue eyes and a strong nose. "I do like it. I like knowing people are safer because of what I do. Although…"
"Although?"
"Sometimes I wonder if I've just convinced myself I'm doing good instead of actually doing any."
The starkness of her own words hit her as she blinks in surprise. She hasn't been that involuntarily open with someone since Michael.
He doesn't state an immediate platitude or something to brush off her comment to make it less awkward. He simply studies her and there's the ghost of a smile as he asks, "what more could you be doing? Or, maybe a better question, is there something you'd rather be doing?"
She's paused for a moment. Truly considering his question. "I'm not sure."
He smiles, "what a lovely thing to be."
She feels caught off guard, "what?"
His face grows serious although there's still a softness to it, "you seem like the type of person that when she knows what she wants, she goes for it. Am I right?"
She nods, slowly, in disbelief that she's having this conversation.
He nods back, acknowledging her nod, "so right now is something new. A growing period. Something that is necessary to get you to what you really want. That's exciting." He scrunches his nose in apology, "not that I'm trying to tell you how you should feel."
Something about the way the glow of the ship's lights, the music, the sound of people having fun and the sea breeze makes it such an enchanting moment. She smiles, "I needed to hear that. I appreciate it."
His half grin is so gentle and she feels her heartbeat increase. "I'm glad." Then he smiled ruefully, "unlike you, I don't help other people much. So I'm happy to help someone." She waits for the pause. Expecting him to have said this to draw out a platitude from her or a pity response. But he grins and then pulls back his sketchbook, flipping it closed. "I suppose I'll see you tomorrow?"
"At dinner." She agrees.
"At dinner." Then he tips his head and is gone. And she's left wishing he had stayed. She just has no idea why.
—-
The next day has her studying her suitcase. She dawns a bikini that she bought but never wore and a loose cover up that she likes the pattern of.
She grabs a book, a water bottle and her phone and heads to find space to just be. The day is a sailing day so she had ample time and leisure to just putter about.
After an hour or so, she decides that her pale English skin won't do well without sunscreen and she's making her way back when she sees the honeymoon couple in the jacuzzi. She avoids eye contact and walks quicker.
After a brief respite in the AC of her room, she goes strolling about and decides to follow up on one of those activities she had wanted to do.
She's about to head inside to get a soda when she spots him. The blonde hair standing and staring at a sign.
Curiosity and an unexplainable desire to talk to him again has her approaching him.
"Never learned how to read?" She asks with a tease.
He startles and turns to her, registering who she is before he lets out a huff of laughter, "oh—" he turns back and gestures to the sign, "no, I just didn't want to wear my contacts or glasses and now I'm paying for it."
The admission makes her grimace internally, "oh my, I'm sorry, I just meant—"
He waves her off, "no, no, no need to apologize." He smiles, "but would you do me a favor? Can you read what this says?" He points to the small writing at the bottom.
"Hours: 9am -10pm."
He squints at his watch and then nods, "thank you."
She takes a glance at the sign. The advertisement for the mini golf on the ship. "Are you a big golfer?" She asks.
He grins, "No, I'm a mini golfer."
She blinks at the joke and then lets out the most unceremonious snort. His smile widens and he seems to take great joy in having made her laugh.
Peggy shakes her head, "that's a terrible joke."
He shrugs, "only one I got."
There's a moment where it's a bit awkward. She could say her goodbyes and walk away or perhaps try to continue the conversation here in the middle of a deckway. He doesn't seem to know what to say either and she can see him gearing up to say goodbye. Just like he did the night before. She wanted him to stay then and she wants him to stay now.
"Would you like a companion?" The question exits her mouth before her brain can chastise her for being so forward. "On the course, I mean? I drive a mean golf cart." She lets the joke soften the question. He could refuse easily.
He seems surprised but not displeased at the offer, "you'd want to play?" He asks, seeming to double check he hadn't misunderstood. "With me?"
"I would." She smiles, "if you don't mind. I'd rather play along with someone than by myself." She tilts her head, "and since you stated you're alone on this cruise as well?"
He nods slowly, "yeah I am." Then he smiles, "yeah, I would. That sounds great. What time?"
It only takes a second for her to shrug, "how about now? Unless you're otherwise occupied?"
"No," he says quickly, then seems to take a deep breath to calm himself, "now is good."
"Shall we?" She gestures to the little gate that marks the entrance.
"We shall." He says with a grin, and something that sounds like the tone of an inside joke.
—-
By hole three she's almost laughing too hard to even putt correctly.
"—I'm not joking. " he says, with a rue smile, "I ran straight onto the graduation stage, torn gown and bloody nose."
"You're lying!"
"I don't lie!" He grins, "I'm always honest."
"And what about the boy who was responsible?"
"I don't know." He replies with a shrug and a grin, "I figure he made it to his own graduation."
"But who got the cap?"
Steve, with a twinkle in his eye, laughs, "I did of course. I wasn't about to let that bully get his way."
He turns to putt and she watches the way his hands carefully swing the little putter and the way the sun gleams off his hair and the way he grimaces and chuckles when it hits the tiniest edge of the plastic turtle and lands off to the side.
And she has the distinct feeling she's not going to mind this vacation at all.
—
Peggy is pleased that her ability to lead a conversation or lightly manipulate a person into behaving the way she wants has not lessened since her days in the field.
Although she gets the distinct feeling Steve is a willing manipulatee. She easily invites him to lunch at the large buffet. She would be embarrassed at how much more food she has than him if he wasn't watching her in awe and admiration as she ate every bit of it.
And when that is over, she very cleverly asks him if he'd like to find a spot by the pool because she has to hear the end of the story he is telling about his first experience driving a car.
"But this is New York, you know? So no one's patient. And I forgot it wasn't a stick shift, and so I did it out of habit—"
She gasps, "No!"
He nods, "oh yeah, the grinding sound 'bout made my ears bleed." He grins, "thankfully we still made it on time."
"But covered in smoke!"
He laughs, "we did have a distinct burning rubber smell following us that night." Then he shakes his head, "I've been talking way too much." He gestures to her, "you just need to tell me to shut up, I tend to ramble—"
"No," she cuts in, shaking her head, "not at all. I find you fascinating to listen to."
He blinks, "Me?" He seems absolutely flabbergasted, "you think… I'm fascinating?"
And oh the way the sun and his blood have reddened his cheeks. She leans forward, getting closer than is normal between two relative strangers. His eyes are on her face, and his pupils dilate at her approach, which gives her whole body a rush of excitement, "I do."
The way his lips part just slightly and a whispered, "oh" exits, completely held in her gaze and under her power. She has the most compelling feeling that he wouldn't mind at all. That he'd relish it. Her fingers roll into a fist to keep from yanking him forward.
Too fast. She's letting this stranger get under her skin and ingrained too fast.
Michael always said she has more heart than she'd ever like to admit. She's always been intensely loyal to those who deserve it. And somehow she finds herself entranced by this man as much as he seems to be entranced by her.
Slow down. Peggy tells herself. She has more than a week on this cruise. She can't make things awkward if she's misreading this (which she's 99% sure she's not) but she can take it slow. She will. She should. She can… she…..
Ugh, she hates taking anything slow.
He's still there, watching her, seeming in his own thoughts but stuck there until she smiles and leans back, "I'm going to go get us some lemonades. Is that alright?"
She sees the rough way his throat bobs as he swallows, leaning back as well, "yeah, that would be great. Can I go grab something? A snack maybe?"
"I would take a pretzel… If you could find one?"
He grins, "I'll do my best."
—
She watches as the sun, the food, and the noise of the crowd makes him start to fade. They'd had to stop conversing when the deck party got too loud and they'd just watched as some poor soul had tried to teach the myriad of cruise goers how to do every line dance known to man.
She looks over to see his eyes closed, sun soaking into his skin and a bead of sweat trickling down from his neck into the collar of his shirt. Slowly his breathing regulates and his mouth parts just slightly in sleep.
Peggy lays on her side, facing Steve. The peace on his face as he sleeps makes her own eyes start to droop. The sounds of the crowd lull her into a peaceful doze and the next thing she knows, she's asleep.
—
A chill in the sea breeze wakes her. She stretches and catches sight of Steve, now sitting up, watching the crowd as it moves to a fro.
"How long was I asleep?" She asks, causing him to look back.
"Well I don't know when you fell asleep, but I've only been awake maybe 10 minutes."
"What time is it?"
"Almost 7p.m."
She blinks in surprise. She hasn't slept that long and that soundly for a long time. Before Michael for sure. "Oh…" she sits up, the setting sun proving Steve's answer. "Almost time for dinner."
He nods, "yeah, I should probably go shower and get ready." Then he looks at her tentatively as if worried she might disagree with his next words. "I'll see you there?"
She lets the smile pull up the one corner of her mouth, "Indeed you will."
—
He's wearing a short sleeve button up and nice khaki colored jeans. He looks fresh and she smiles in genuine greeting as she approaches the table.
His eyes don't trail, but she can see the appreciation there as he takes in her pencil skirt and light ruffle blouse. She always feels pretty in this outfit. And she likes feeling pretty. While she's always had a bone to pick with men for denigrating on her femininity in her job, she's never shied away from said femininity either.
And for good reason. Steve stands, pulling out her chair with a hesitant smile.
"Why thank you." She says, taking a seat. He sits down and runs a nervous hand through his hair, "you look dapper."
He huffs a laugh, "I'm just glad I brought a few nice shirts. I was just told about formal night." He winces, "I didn't even know that was a thing."
While not an avid cruiser, she's been on one or two mostly for missions, and had known to expect it. "Oh formal night is a pain." She nods, acknowledging his plight. "But it's not totally required. It's not as if they won't allow you to eat."
He grimaces, "I just hate being underdressed."
She knows there's a story behind that. Somehow after even just a day she's starting to be able to read him quite easily. Although thankfully that's always been one of her skills. "I'm sure it's fine." She says easily. When he doesn't seem to find ease in her assurance, she rests a hand on his forearm, feeling the way his skin is soft, but warm still from the sun. He looks at her, surprised at the contact, but he waits, knowing she's going to say something. "You know they have multiple shops on board. If you really felt the need to dress formally I'm sure we could find a ridiculously overpriced suit or tux."
His smile is slow but it's genuine and the tension eases out of him, "you're right. I know. I know it's not a big deal."
"It's not." Then she retracts her hand since she has the distinct urge to run her fingers along his skin. "But it is always fun to dress up. If you end up buying a suit, you'll have to tell me so I can buy an equally overpriced dress to match yours."
Steve laughs, "You've got a deal."
And for some reason she really hopes he takes her up on that.
When the couple arrives, looking already drunk, Peggy rolls her eyes.
But she feels decidedly unsmug when Steve stands to pull out the chair for Kia. Even though Peggy knows she's in a relationship, she finds herself strangely territorial of Steve.
Which is why, halfway through dinner. She accidentally drinks out of his water glass, leaving a perfect lipstick stain in the shape of her bottom lip.
She catches the way his eyes get drawn to it every few seconds. His fingertips trail in the condensation beneath it, always avoiding smudging it.
And her smugness returns after that.
—
She can't think of a single reason to stay with him as dinner is coming to a close. She curses her idiocy for not having looked at the nightlife schedule to know what was happening. There was always something happening of course, that was the point of cruises. But it seemed incredibly unslow to ask him to just roam the decks with her.
Even though that's exactly what she wanted to do.
But Kia was talking to him nonstop about her work project and he was being a perfect gentleman and asking wonderfully insightful questions.
She should have eaten her dessert slower.
Damn.
"Mr. Rogers?"
The whole table looks up at the waiter who has appeared. Steve tilts his head, "yes?"
"You have a phone call."
Steve feels his pockets and then grimaces. "Shit," she hears him whisper quietly. "Uh, yeah, sure, I'm coming."
He stands and he bids the table goodnight. She doesn't miss the way his eyes glance to the mark on his glass one last time, or that his gaze lingers on her for a moment longer than everyone else.
But then he nods and is gone.
And she's thoroughly annoyed.
—
Peggy sets her alarm for a decent amount of time to eat breakfast and get off the boat to make her excursion. Annoyance clouds her mind as she realizes that each day at port will mean a day spent without Steve.
Technically Howard had paid for these excursions, so she could skip out and stay on the boat. But… She loves to travel. And she knows she will be better for going out and exploring. And there's no guarantee that Steve is staying on the boat either. So she dawns a layer of sunscreen, leggings and a tank top, grabs her small backpack and heads towards the elevator.
—
"And it's a lovely hour-long bike ride to the head of the trail, and a beautiful hike to the falls. We will take a dip, have some refreshments and head back! Then you will have plenty of time to shop and browse before it's time to head back on the boat!"
The overly chipper guide explains the expectations and safety guidelines before lining them up to receive their bicycles. And that's when she spots him. Staring at the bicycle like he's already tired.
"You're here." Peggy says with a smile. She tries to keep the utter pleased amusement out of her voice but she's not quite sure she manages it.
He glances up and his eyes widen, "you're on this excursion?"
She nods, "Indeed I am." Now she has no intention of stating it was required. She'll have to thank Howard later. Then she's surprised because he grimaces but tries to hide it. "Is that alright?"
Steve shakes his head, "Oh, no, it's fine, It's good. I'm glad."
"You don't sound very glad." She accuses with a raised eyebrow.
The sigh of defeat that exits him is followed by an amused huff. "I'm just not the most athletic. So this should be really embarrassing. But it will probably entertain everyone else."
The self deprecation strikes her and she leans forward, "I'm sure it will be fine."
He nods, "yeah…" Then he trails off and looks in the direction that people are starting to bike. "Fine."
His genuine concern makes her offer no more platitudes and she mounts up, "come on, I'll keep time with you. I haven't ridden a bicycle in ages, so we can stick to the back together."
Steve steps over the bike and nods, "'kay, but if at any point you want to move ahead you should."
"I will," she assures. "Promise."
—
Peggy realizes very quickly that it's not really a question of athleticism, it's asthma. Something he refuses to acknowledge as he sucks in another breath.
She hasn't mentioned it either. But as the bicycle part comes to an end, she's worried that he might refuse to use medicine if he thinks it's embarrassing. Peggy hopes not.
As they park and lock up their bikes, the last two in the group, he pulls an inhaler from a little pack that's strapped across his back and pulls from it. "Sorry." He says unnecessarily.
"You're apologizing for needing to breathe?" She asks, eyeing him with incredulity. "It's a necessary function you know."
"I know." He frowns, "just… always hated it." He shoves the device back in his back and straightens, "ready?"
"Um-hmm."
—
He does better on the hike (although it's more of a long winding walk than a hike) and it's beautiful. So much greenery, a few old stone ruins, and lots of small bridges that cross over creeks and small rivers.
They talk and chat. She finds out that he was raised by a single mother named Sarah, who Peggy get's the feeling is not alive anymore by the way he talks. That he's allergic to kiwi, which makes her laugh for some reason since she's allergic to strawberries.
She tells him about Michael, and makes it clear that he is no longer around either.
His sympathetic face makes her throat tighten, but she just continues to tell the story about them using a jump rope as a lasso and accidentally breaking the kitchen window.
"He sounds hilarious." Steve says softly, "it must have been fun to grow up with a sibling."
"It was." She agrees, "always having a built-in friend."
His face grows infinitely sad and she feels the need to apologize although she's not sure for what.
—
They reach the falls probably a good thirty minutes after everyone else. People are swimming in the lake at the bottom or lazing about on the small sandy cove. A table of refreshments are available and they grab some water and a cup of fruit salad before heading towards the water.
She's very glad she chose to wear her cuter swimsuit today.
His shorts are swim trunks, she can tell by the material. Which means he knew what was involved on this excursion. "Why did you sign up?" She asks, "for the excursion I mean, if you knew what it was?"
"Oh, I didn't." He says with a sigh, "I—" he trails off and shakes his head, "I mean, I was highly recommended to. It was pre-paid for. So I figured why not."
Color is high on his cheeks, but she's not sure if that's from the sun or exertion.
"Well," She grins, "care for a swim to cool down then?"
She defty removes her tank top and starts to shimmy out of her leggings.
He blinks before averting his eyes. Which makes her grin.
She watches as his hands hesitate on the hem of his shirt. She doesn't press, walking towards the water and feeling the coolness on her toes.
When she feels him stand beside her, she looks over, about to say something, when the giant scar running down his chest catches her eyes.
Words are stolen from her momentarily. It's a surgical scar. But from the length, width, and how it's healed she can tell. It was many many heart surgeries.
She looks back at the water, "ready to swim?" She asks, keeping her tone light.
Her eyes catch another group of people looking at them. One of the children points with wide eyes towards Steve. It is a rather red and eye-catching mark against his pale skin. But thankfully he doesn't seem to notice them pointing.
"I haven't swam for years." He says with a teasing smile, "but I think I remember the general premise."
His teasing tone makes her look back at him. He's not so subtly crossing his arms over his chest. "Come on," She urges, "let's go." Then she walks forward, leading him deeper into the water.
—-
They enjoy the 20 minutes they have. He has no trouble swimming, and they explore the cove a bit before heading back to land.
It's as they're grabbing towels from the attendants that Peggy notices their stuff is missing.
She walks over, searching the area they had definitely set it down.
"What is it?" Steve asks, right before asking, "wait where's our stuff?"
They search, and then something catches her eye. She scoffs and yanks her tank top out from a random pile of things. Towels, shoes, and other clothes have all been blown, presumably by the wind. "Here." She calls, waving him over. "Its all here."
Her leggings are sopping wet and sandy. As is his shirt. She holds it pinched between her forefinger and thumb, "not sure what happened."
He grabs the shirt and frowns at it, "just great."
"Everyone needs to head out!" The tour guide is calling, "need to have plenty of time to make it back to town!"
"Come on," she snatches the shirt, "I'll rinse them quickly, and we can try to. Air dry them on the ride back."
He nods, grabbing his bag and slinging it across his bare chest. His silence on the matter makes her sympathetic as she rinses the sand off of both items and hands the shirt back to him. She doesn't miss that he's got his bag hanging right over his scar. She wrings out as much water from her leggings as she can, but there's no way she's trying to pull tight wet clothing on. She shudders at the thought.
Steve eyes his shirt but must feel the same. So they start to walk.
The sun is setting, which means it's more directly on them and she feels herself start to burn.
She looks over and sees that Steve, with all his exposed ivory skin, is starting to crisp as well. "I think I need to reapply." Her smile grows, "and I think you do too."
Steve grimaces, "I didn't even apply this morning."
"What?" She gasps, "why not?"
"My arms don't really burn that much—" he admits, "and I assumed I'd only have my shirt off to swim, if I even chose to do that." His simple explanation reveals more than he probably realizes. She'd convinced him to be more engaged just by being present.
She looks at him with a mischievous smile, "we're too close to the equator for that sort of silly thinking! Even if your arms don't burn easily they're still taking in sun. You need to be careful."
Steve wrinkles his nose, and nods, "yes ma'am."
She starts to apply and hands him her bottle, "I'm assuming you didn't bring any?"
"You assume right," he says, taking some and starting to spread it along his arms.
They do this for a bit, falling further behind, but Peggy couldn't care less. She's thoroughly enjoying watching the methodical and almost artistic way Steve is applying his sunscreen.
She lathers up her legs, now that they're not covered with leggings, and is about ready to ask if he's ready when she sees him trying to reach his middle back. "Would you like help?"
"If I struggle for long enough, I usually get it." He replies.
"Well, I think time is not on our side, let me." She snags the bottle, dollops some on her palm, runs it together and gently starts applying it to his already burnt skin.
Peggy decidedly doesn't pay attention to how soft his skin is, or the little scar that's on the back of his left shoulder blade. She doesn't pay attention to the precise sharp line of the hair on the back of his neck, or the way there's freckles sprinkled across his shoulders. Her fingertips run over the bones of his spine and she has to remind herself that slinking her hands around front to feel his hip bones would be very inappropriate.
She clears her throat and wipes the last bit on her hands on her legs. "All set."
He doesn't respond vocally, just nods as he mounts back on his bicycle.
—-
They end up not having too much time in the town, and she can see that the more of a crowded place they're in the more he's self conscious about not having a shirt on. She's not sure if it's the scar, or his thin stature, or both, but she wishes he didn't mind.
She doesn't mind the view at all.
But she doesn't say that.
Slow down.
Slow. Down.
They separate to get ready for dinner and she applies lotion to her skin immediately after getting out of the shower. Lathering it on thickly on her burnt skin and drinking lots of water to replenish what she's lost.
Then she dawns a flowy white number that won't stick to her much, and heads to dinner.
—-
Steve doesn't come to dinner.
And she's worried and annoyed.
She has no idea where his room is on the ship or any way to contact him.
—-
That night, she strolls out to the deck and just walks around, taking in the ocean breeze and the sounds of people having fun. She'd been hoping to go out and about the night with Steve but—
Her eyes lock onto him. He's exiting from the inside of the main enclosure.
"Steve?" She calls, not even a thought about it. Not even a hesitance that maybe he wasn't as interested as her or a pause that maybe he just wanted to enjoy his vacation alone. She's decidedly not slow.
He looks up, and embarrassment crosses his face before he tries to hide it behind a calm expression, "hey," he responds, swinging his hands behind his back.
"What happened to you?" She lightly accuses, the worry and tad bit of annoyance present in her tone, "we said we'd meet at dinner."
His eyes get really sad and very apologetic, "I know, and I'm sorry, I got out of the shower and laid down for just a minute, I just wanted a minute to close my eyes. But the sun—" he grimaces, "the sun really took it out of me and I fell full asleep. For hours, and when I woke up, dinner was over. I'm real sorry."
Relief that that was his reason for skipping and not because of her or their day, courses through her. "No, I perfectly understand." She responds with a smile, "I was worried about you when you didn't show, but I'm glad. Did you get food?"
"Not yet." He says. "But I'm going to head to the place now."
Her mind quickly supplies the question. Want me to go with you? I'd love to go with you. Ask me to go with you. But she says none of this. She just nods and smiles and steps to the side, "I suppose I'll see you tomorrow?"
"Yeah." He nods, "I'll be at dinner. For sure."
He tips his head and walks away and she frowns at his receding figure.
—-
She's perched her sunglasses up on top of her head as she waits in line to get in the open air double decker bus. Sightseeing is the excursion today and she walks up the swirling metal steps to reach the second level.
As the rest of the crowd takes their seats, her heart leaps at the sight of him ascending the steps and appearing on the second level. She hopes he'll catch sight of her and come sit in the—
"Howdy miss." She feels a tap on her shoulder and looks up to find a man leering and leaning over her, ready to slide into the seat next to her.
She just knows he's American. "This seat is taken." She says crisply, resting her hand onto it.
He pauses, looking around at all the empty seats, "oh is it?"
She nods "yes," then she thanks Howard for putting her on this particular excursion and she raises her hand, "Steve!" He looks up, surprise on his face, "over here, baby. I've saved you a seat." The way his eyes widen in total shock makes her want to roll her eyes. "Come on."
The man now leaning back a bit takes a look at Steve, "who's he? Your brother?" She glares at the man. She's just called him baby. Obviously he wanted to be obtuse.
But then a deliciously selfish idea pops into her brain. "No, my boyfriend." She lies, waving Steve forward. He has a baseball cap shadowing his face, but she can see the bright blue eyes beneath.
Peggy adjusts so Steve can slide into the seat cleanly. But he pauses at the man standing beside Peggy. And she just knows he's going to ask the man an idiotic question like 'are you sitting there?' And ruin the whole ruse.
"There you are, my darling." She says to him, "please sit, did you bring the sunscreen like I asked?"
She makes a subtle widening of her eyes that says 'play along' and he slowly nods. "Yeah. Yeah I did."
"Great. Sit down and you can apply it to my back before we go." She looks up to the man who is staring in incredulity. "Nice meeting you."
He slinks back a few seats and sits, watching them. Peggy turns to Steve and grins, "you're a life saver."
"Not sure how I saved your life." He responds, "but you're welcome?"
And for the ruse, not for her own enjoyment at all, she leans forward and kisses his cheek. His skin is warm from being burnt yesterday but it's still soft and makes her throat dry. He turns suddenly, the tip of his nose brushing against hers and suddenly their eye to eye, inches away from each other. "What was that for?" He breathes out, his eyes flicking to her lips then nose then back to her eyes.
"Just…" Peggy starts, "that man was being forward, and I told him you were my boyfriend to get him to leave me alone. I hope that's alright."
Instead of being shy or annoyed or anything he expects, he laughs. "Oh…" he shakes his head and settles into the seat, "yeah, no, that's fine." He grins at her, "how was your night?"
But she can't seem to fathom his response. "You're alright with me having done that? Without asking?"
He's momentarily confused until he realizes she's still talking about the previous situation.
"It happens all the time." He says, a soft smile on his lips, "you'd actually be surprised how often it does happen. Maybe not always boyfriend, but I've been brother, friend, cousin, or whoever someone has needed me to be." She feels the way that makes her heartbeat elevate. "I'm happy to help."
"You've had a lot of women ask for your assistance?"
He's shuffling through his bag, not even really paying attention, "yeah. Happens all the time. Guys won't leave some girl alone and I guess I have a non-threatening face. So they ask me to pretend." He huffs, staring into his bag, "shit, I thought I brought it."
Something about that fact is so endearing. Meaning not only had Peggy read Steve correctly, that he was a terribly nice gentleman. But that he was so to everyone. A good man that women trusted.
Rare and difficult to find.
He's patting his pockets and then he leans back and sighs, "shit."
"What is it?" She asks, "what have you forgotten? Perhaps I have it?"
"No, it's my phone." He sighs, "I agreed on this vacation but I've got a big project at work happening, so I was told to keep my phone on me, and I think I left it in the room." He grimaces, "this is why I shouldn't have taken this vacation."
"Shouldn't they know you're on a cruise?"
"They do. And my job insisted I take my allotted time, but… I just really hate leaving people high and dry and we've got new workers and I was training them, but they wouldn't let me put this off and so now they've been using that phone to contact me and I left it."
She remembers the phone call at dinner.
"Do you have a tendency to forget that phone?"
"Usually at work and my apartment I have a landline. Shocking, I know, but I do and so I've never needed to use my cell much. I'm not used to carrying it."
"You sound positively medieval."
He laughs and seems to fully look at her for the first time. And those pupils dilate again in a way that sends a deep thrill through her. But he just nods and grins at her ruefully, "I have on occasion been told I was born with the soul of an 80 year old."
She snorts again, positively smitten with this man whom she's known less than 72 hours.
"Well," she responds with a smirk as the man from earlier glares in their direction, "that suits me just fine."
—
It's later, after their sight seeing is over, when she notices the first twinge. Steve makes a small sound in his throat and shifts his bag on his shoulders.
It's nothing at first. Until she notices it over and over. She's sure he thinks it's subtle and not apparent. But she's trained to notice things. Tics and quirks of a person.
She's about to say something, ask what's wrong when he beats her to the punch. "I'm going to head back to the boat." He says calmly, with an easy going smile, "I'll meet you at dinner?"
"You said that last time and you ditched me for Kia the nonstop talker and the drunk honeymooners."
He laughs, shifting his back yet again. "I know, I'm still sorry, but I promise that won't happen again."
Someone jostles behind him and he full on winces.
And that makes her worry hook higher, "what's wrong?"
His brow furrows, "what? Nothing?"
"I thought you said you never lied?" He looks confused and she sighs, "you've been uncomfortable the majority of the afternoon. What is it?"
He closes one eye and tips his head back, "it's just the sunburn. It's getting better, but it's not healed yet."
"Healed?" She laughs, "it's been a single day. Lotion can't solve everything."
"Lotion?"
"Yes, I mean it helps but it's not going to heal it in one day." His look of confusion makes her lean forward, "you have been putting lotion on right? An aloe one preferably to help with the burn?"
"Uh—"
"Oh, Steven for heaven's sake, haven't you ever had a sunburn before?"
"I mean, yeah." He says, "but it's been awhile."
"Well you should be drinking plenty of water and applying lotion liberally. Or your whole trip will be miserable."
"Okay, I will." He nods, "that's good advice." He turns to leave and then pauses, turning back, "they probably sell that on the boat, right?"
She huffs and shakes her head in disbelief, "sure if you want to pay exorbitant prices!" And then another idea strikes her. "What room number are you?"
"Uh, 1842. Why?"
"I'm going to go grab my lotion from my room, I brought plenty, and I'll bring it to you. You should shower off the sunscreen and you can apply it afterwards. Sound good?"
"I couldn't use yours, I can buy it—"
"Nonsense." She says with a snap, "don't be such a tourist. I'll be there in 30 minutes. Okay?"
His smile is shy but grateful, "okay."
—
She knocks lightly and is greeted by a freshly scrubbed, still wet haired Steve. His skin is flushed from the shower and the sun and he waves her in.
She's not sure what she expected, since he doesn't dress like he has money, but his room is the same as hers.
A stack of sketchbooks lays a the table and she sees a pair of glasses on the nightstand.
The urge to see what he looks like in his glasses is altogether too strong.
"It's kind of you to let me use it." He's saying, breaking out of her reverie, "I'm usually more prepared but this trip was kind of last minute."
"Not at all," she responds, handing him the bottle, "happy to help. Now we're even."
He grins, "yeah, so I'll see you at dinner?"
Her brain is telling her mouth to shut up, but her mouth isn't listening, "do you need help applying?" His eyes widen, "to your back or any place? I might as well wait and just take it back, as I'll need it as well."
"Oh, I'll just use it quick." He responds, opening the bottle and dispensing some into his palm. He does manage it rather quickly and then she sees when he realizes he has to apply it to his chest and back. He looks at her and winces, "sorry," before taking off his shirt and quickly spreading it across his quite red skin.
"What are you apologizing for?" She asks, taken aback, "this is your room."
He doesn't respond, just keeps applying. And then he pauses… staring at the aloe lotion left in his hand. He looks up at her, "could you… could you do my back?"
She nods, a grin on her lips as he hands her the bottle, turning his back to her. Deja Vu of just a day ago makes her smile, as she carefully applies it. Silently laughing at the white strip that crosses his chest from where his bag was blocking the sun. He only winces once and she apologizes, but soon she's finished and he's ripping his shirt back on.
"When did you have surgery?" She asks calmly, trying to show that she's not turned off by it.
"Couple of times." He says awkwardly, buttoning up his shirt quickly.
She drops it. Since he obviously doesn't want to discuss it.
Peggy grabs the bottle and heads to the door, "I'll see you at dinner."
"Yeah." He says, "see you there."
—
"Thanks." He says quietly during dinner, making her raise a questioning eyebrow, "for the help. It does feel a lot better with the lotion. So thanks."
She can almost picture the way her own eyes sparkle in return as she smiles, "you're very welcome indeed."
—
The next morning, Peggy decides to be absolutely insane. She walks to his room, and pauses only a millisecond before knocking. She doesn't want to spend this day at sea alone. She wants to spend it with Steve, heaven help her.
"Come in." A voice calls, surprising her. She twists the knob and steps in, to find his back to her. "You can just set it on the table—" he turns, cash in his hand held out. towards her. Then he freezes and his eyes widen behind a pair of gloriously adorable glasses. His mouth moves as if he's trying to say something but can't find his voice.
She purses her lips in amusement, "you thought I was room service, didn't you?" He nods and his hand slowly lowers. "Sorry to disappoint."
"It's fine." He manages, before wincing at his words, "no, I just mean, I…" His nose wrinkles and he pushes his frames back up with the pinky finger of his left hand, "I'm sorry, no, I'm just surprised."
Just then a cart arrives, a server looking unsure. Steve seems dumbfounded and Peggy grins while pointing to the table, "you can set it there."
The lady nods, dropping it off, and nodding before looking t like she was going to disappear.
"Wait!" Steve's voice calls, catching the woman's attention, "here—" he holds out the cash and she thanks him, taking it and smiling too fondly at him. Then she's gone and Peggy is left feeling a bit awkward.
"If you'd like me to go," she starts, "I can, I just thought…" she looks about his room, a sketch pad open on the balcony. And she internally chides herself for just assuming. "I can see you're busy and you have plans for the day. I'll leave you be." Embarrassment and annoyance at herself rises as she starts to back away.
"No," he calls, stopping her in her tracks, "I'm not…" his eyes catch hers and she can see he's trying to stay nonchalant, "busy. I… I actually did want to contact you to see if you wanted to…" he grimaces at his own words, "hang out today. But I didn't know your room number…" He trails off, and she can't decide if she's more thrilled he's asked or impressed that he's asked.
"1749." She responds. "That's my room number."
"1749." He responds, "I'll remember that."
She grins, "I hope so." Then she looks at the sketchbook outside, "are you drawing?" She gestures to it, drawing his attention. His eyes widen and he steps in front of it, blocking it from her view.
"No." He responds quickly, too quickly. "Just some work."
Her eyes narrow, she knows when she's being lied to. "Oh?" She presses, "what kind of work?"
"Just…" heavens, he's terrible at this, "some design stuff."
"Can I see?"
"Uh—" he says with fear in his eyes, "here." He pulls a different sketchbook out of a pile and hands it to her.
Peggy eyes him in humored suspicion, but she doesn't force. Even though she is dying to know what he was just drawing.
Charcoal smudges are the first page, like he was trying to wear in a nub and a smudger.
Then interior designs, basic layouts, blueprints, designs, patterns. She flips, each page something different, like a different style. She frowns. "Something about this…" she pauses, pointing to a pattern that has drawn her eye, "this is familiar to me."
He looks over and steps closer, following to where she's pointing at. "That pattern, you mean?"
"Yes, I swear I've seen it and admired it before."
He frowns, "have you been to New York recently?"
"Not in a few years."
He shrugs, "I did a remodel and design update for a client just over a year ago. That was one of the pillowcases I designed that integrated into the pattern of the wallpaper. Not sure where you would have seen it…"
She continues flipping. The eerie sense that she's seen some of this before. She just doesn't remember where or when. Then in the middle of what is clearly a work sketchbook, a page stops her in her tracks.
Someone's shoes. A pair of heels. Expertly drawn down to the last detail. She can tell he's familiar with these pair of heels. A war of thoughts plague her. He doesn't seem to be the guy to have flings if he's in a committed relationship. So she smiles, a relaxed and simply curious smile, "wear a lot of heels?"
He laughs, not seeming uncomfortable at all, "thankfully no, they look way too painful."
But he doesn't say whose they are.
So, even though she's dying to know, she flips to the next page.
A pair of loafers, worn and scuffed, and obviously well worn and loved. She flips again.
A pair of boots, Military clearly. She flips again. Thick soled white sneakers. Like the ones she's seen nurses wear.
And then the last page is a pair of converse. One tipped over on it's side and paint splatters on them.
Each shoe drawn so clearly with precision and an eye for detail.
She knows the last pair is his. She just has a gut feeling, "are these the shoes of your family?" She asks softly.
He nods, "and friends." He smiles as she hands back the sketchbook, "Maybe I can't walk a mile in everybody's shoes, but I can draw them." His grin is so pleasant and soft and he sets the book down. "Shoes tell a lot about a person." He adds matter-of-factly, "I like paying attention to that."
She finds herself leaning forward, "and what do my shoes say about me?"
And it's like her proximity places him in a trance, because he mirrors her, leaning in and speaking as if without thought, "you're more comfortable at dinner in your heels than you are during the day in sandals or anything else. To me, that tells me that you don't ever shy away from hard work and you like to make sure things are done right."
It's her turn to be speechless but then she finds herself unconsciously stepping forward, closing the gap between them in an instant. He straightens, unsure about her proximity, but she doesn't stop, lifting her hand to brush a hand through his hair, then that same hand drag her knuckles softly along his cheekbone and her index finger runs long his bottom lip, pulling it softly down in a tantalizing way. It's so soft and supple she wants to kiss him this instant.
But he's looking like a deer caught in the headlights.
Slow down.
No.
You'll scare him away! Slow the hell down!
Damn going slow— Her mind wars back and forth. Until she very slowly leans and presses a soft kiss to his cheek.
"I would very much like to eat breakfast with you." She states plainly, taking a small step back, "if you're amenable."
His teeth gently pull the lip she had just touched as he nods slowly, "Yeah," he whispers out, "I'd like that."
"Perfect." She smiles, adding a heat to her gaze at him that has his cheeks coloring, "I'm starved."
—
There's an air of tension now. He's nervous, unsure, like he's on shaky footing even though she's pretty sure she's made herself rather abundantly clear. But he's awkward, fidgeting with his silverware and speaking less.
"I won't bite, you know." She teases, "unless I'm tempted." He lets out a very nervous sound that she's pretty sure is supposed to be a laugh, but just makes her sigh, "I'm teasing you. I'm sorry."
"I know." He says quickly, a tight smile on his face.
"Steve." She reaches over and rests her hand on top of his, making him go rigid. "I have a personal question."
"Okay?"
"Are you dating someone currently?"
His head pushes back and his eyes widen, "what? No."
"Are you interested in someone back home?" The heels float to the front of her mind.
He shakes his head 'no'. His eyes still on her. She smiles, "wonderful. Because I'd very much like to get to know you. And I don't like to waste my time."
"Get to know me?" He asks, seeming confused.
She sighs, "yes."
"You want to get to know me?"
Her sigh is louder, more annoyed and full of ire, "why, yes, in fact, I do. Is that such a surprise?"
He nods, "yeah, it is."
That pulls her up short, "what? You're surprised?" She thinks back to everything she's done and said around him that was abundantly not subtle. "That I'm interested in you?"
His eyes widen to saucers, "you're interested… in me?" He says so in shock as if he cannot fathom such a thing, "why?"
Her brow furrows, "haven't you wondered why I've been so persistent about spending time with you?"
His eyes are glazed as he repeats his question quietly but as more of an unsure statement, "you're interested in me."
"Yes." She responds slowly, because she's now certain he must take a long time to process such unsettling information, "quite."
Then his eyes clear and he knits his brows together before looking down in a sort of self inspection before looking at her and shrugging a bit helplessly, "but why?"
"For many reasons." She states, starting to find the conversation equal parts trying and endearing, "one of which is your kind manner, gentlemanly behavior, and your humor. I haven't laughed so hard in ages, and you brought it out of me so effortlessly."
He's still stunned but his eyes are softening, like he's actually starting to take in her words, "your laugh is amazing, you should do it more often."
She smiles, "I haven't had much reason to. You've given me some."
His head ducks and then he smiles at her, "I'm honored."
Loud laughter pulls their attention for a moment before they turn back to face each other.
And a question enters her mind, "if you didn't realize I was interested, why were you so nervous this morning?"
He grimaces, "I didn't want to be awkward… about how much I was enjoying spending this time together. I didn't want to creep you out and be too friendly or forward."
Her smile turns to a smirk, "well, I was worried about that same thing. But I think we can throw that worry to the wind. Deal?"
He nods, a smirk on his own lips, "deal."
—
With that, Steve morphs into someone who surprises her. It's as if her being blunt and honest was exactly what he needed.
While he was nowhere near the realm of forward, he was actually quite the flirt when he put his mind to it.
She'd dozed off by the pool and when she woke up, an intricate paper-folded flower sits beside a fresh strawberry lemonade and a pretzel.
All while he pretends not to be paying attention and reads his book.
—-
That evening, after dinner where she very unsubtly placed her hand on top of Steve's and whispered in his ear (giving the other table guests something to talk about she's sure) she hears music and some announcer.
"Let's go dancing." She offers excitedly, "I love to dance."
Hesitation and embarrassment creep onto his features, "oh, uh— I—-"
She pauses, "you don't like to dance?"
He scrunches his nose, "I never have. I don't know how."
Oh. She grins. That she can handle, "I'll show you how." Then she grabs his hand and pulls him along.
—-
The over enthusiastic salsa instructor has the crowd moving to and fro, just not necessarily in a rhythm she would call 'dancing' per say, but everyone seems to be enjoying themselves. She's sure the copious amounts of alcohol are helping. But she has yet to see Steve imbibe. She wonders if it has to do with his heart or any other reason. But shaky and uncoordinated as he is, he tries. And she adores him for it.
She tries to help guide him as best she can, and after he's first stepped on her toes, he's about to quit right there and then. But she gently presses the toe of her heels onto the top of his shoe and raises an eyebrow at him, "there we're even. Keep dancing."
After a while, he finally starts to relax. When he sees she wouldn't abandon him just for not being able to keep rhythm or be a perfect dancer, he stops worrying and starts to have fun.
"Okay!" The instructor calls, "grab your partner and let's try that again!"
She doesn't hesitate, helping him place his hands and get in position. As the dance starts, he's focused on her, following the steps and trying to avoid her toes.
She pulls and twirls, and steps in time with the rhythm and he watches her in awe. Then the instructor says something she can't hear over the loud music and the lights shift. Going from brighter spotlights on the deck, to dimmer warm lights. Then colors start to flash. Reds and greens and yellows flashing in rhythm and make the dance floor glow.
He's counting time again and Peggy pulls Steve closer, using her hip to push his leg back, and that causes him to nod, following her back and forth motion.
Peggy watches as the ambiance and the music and his quickly receding worry turns Steve into an absolute prism of light. He's smiling and moving, and not shy to grab her waist, spin her out, and pull her back with a confidence she hasn't seen. He's finally getting the hang of it, and able to now guess and move with her instead of a beat after.
The lights play a mesmerizing pattern on his face and time seems to slow as she watches him tilt his head back, laughing. Carefree and so handsome as the reds and greens and blues make him look almost magical.
And she's done taking it slow.
Her hand is on his shoulder but she slides it behind his neck, her fingers slinking up into his hair and getting his attention. Then she's crowding him, making his eyes widen as if he's prey and she's a predator he doesn't mind.
And then she's kissing him.
The music, the lights, and the chuckle of those dancing around them only spurring on the delicious twisting of excitement in her gut. She hasn't wanted to kiss a man in years. And she has never wanted to kiss a man this badly.
His hands, which had been on her waist, slip to the small of her back, his fingers grazing against her warm skin and gently digging in as he holds her closer.
She can't help the small sound of delight that exits her throat when he slants sideways, letting the kiss deepen. And she feels positively feral with excitement when his other hand appears behind her neck, and then on the side of her face, cupping her cheek and resting there.
When she breaks apart, he looks breathless and mused, the lights still flashing wildly.
I'm starved, she'd said earlier.
Now she knows what she was starved for. This man. True affection and desire. True attraction and interest.
She grabs his hand and drags him off the dance floor.
—
When she's through with him, his cheeks are flushed, hair mused probably beyond repair and breathing erratic.
She's pretty sure he's never made out before.
So she hopes his first experience was memorable.
After leaving the dance floor, she'd pulled him to the deck that ran the side of the ship and pushed him against the wall, kissing him senseless. They'd been lost in a haze of music, lights, the sound of the sea and the overwhelming magic of each other's kiss for a long time.
But now they sit on a deck lounger, her back leaning onto his chest, positioned between his legs and knees propped up on the chair.
She feels his stare and she leans her head back, catching his eyes, "what?" She asks, still pleased to see some of his flush is still there.
"You're so beautiful." His voice is gravely, like he's deeply affected by her, "inside and out."
She reaches up, pulling his head down to place an upside down kiss on his lips.
She feels his smile.
—-
Time starts to speed up. And now she really does want things to slow down.
She and Steve spend every waking second together. Enjoying breakfast, the last few excursions they have (which always line up. They find the coincidence hilarious) sightseeing, doing the horrible cheesy and awfully entertaining things the cruise director has for them. And just talking.
She's never had a man who loved to hear her talk so much. And she's never had a man talk so much to her that she actually wants to hear. Usually something a man says will make her roll her eyes or worse, make her wary of him. But not with Steve. Raised by a single mother, she now has confirmation is no longer living, she can see he was raised correctly. And while he dislikes maths, which she loves, and he loves cooking, which she's terrible at. She finds that their differences only make each other more obviously a perfect match.
He's like a puzzle piece. The edges he has, and the shallow divots of parts missing, line up with her own edges and strengths.
The only problem is where they reside.
He lives in New York. She lives in DC.
"It's not that far." She offers after dinner on their last night.
He nods. They've sort of circled around this same conversation yesterday. She'd let him know full well she wants to retain contact and see if they could continue to get to know each other and see where it leads. "Which means you need to be better about keeping your phone on you." She teases. He laughs. He has a penchant for leaving it behind. Something his boss hates and always finds another way to contact him, like the call at dinner.
"You know…" He says slowly, "my boss really wanted me to go to DC. He's redesigning some of the offices that he has there and I told him I didn't need to go to supervise…"
He trails off and she tries to not let the excitement seep into her face and make him feel like he should come. She wants him to want to come on his own.
"Maybe I should tell him that I want to go. Just to see the process. Feel like they got the vision right." He looks over at her, and even though she was making out with him mere 30 minutes ago, he hesitates before raising his shoulders in question, "we could meet up when I'm in the city?"
She grins, "I would adore that. I know this perfect little restaurant."
He smiles back, his blue eyes absolutely alight with her avid attention.
—
They're both golden tan and smiling as they walk down the gangplank together. The promise of meeting up in just mere weeks, something to look forward to.
"I'll call you." He says firmly, "when I get home, if you want."
Peggy leans forward, placing one last lingering kiss on him before a smirk crosses her lips, "you better."
—
They text throughout the first day, and call at night when they can. She gets a FaceTime tour of his apartment and she reciprocates with a tour of her own.
And she's in her office, smiling at the picture Steve had sent her of his flight itinerary to DC when a voice pops out of nowhere.
"What the hell happened on that cruise."
She looks up, seeing Howard standing in front of her desk, palms splayed on the surface and narrowed eyes glaring at her. "Usually I can't even make it within 20 feet of your office door without you telling me to leave you the hell alone, and now look at me—" he reaches forward, knocking over her pen holder, making them spill on the desk, "I could have thrown something at you and I think I would have actually managed to surprise you."
She glares, locking her phone and setting it screen down, "I'm busy, Howard, what do you want?"
"You know Rose mentions that you haven't even yelled at Jack since you got back. Are you on drugs? What is it? Who are you and what have you done with Peggy Carter?"
She twirls her chair away from him, standing and walking towards her door, "Howard, you forced me on that vacation and you're mad I came back more relaxed?"
"No," he chuckles, "I'm more shocked that you came back relaxed. Honestly, I thought you'd choose to hate it out of spite."
"It was tempting." She says slowly, rolling her eyes at him, "but you were right, as you oh so rarely are. I needed that time. It was helpful."
Howard seems stunned but doesn't fire back a smart comment. "Well good." He nods, "okay. This is great. You had fun, I don't get yelled at, we both win."
Her phone beeps and she reaches for it instantly, hoping for the notification that his plane had taken off.
She smiles at the little alert and then suddenly the phone is out of her hands.
"Hey!" She protests, able to snatch it back, "what the hell!"
"You're smiling!" Howard looks flabbergasted, "at your phone!" He goes to look at the screen and she snatches it out of his hands.
She feels flustered but shoves it down, "and? You've decided that's a permission to leap towards insanity and invading my privacy?"
"Oh hell!" He laughs, "you met someone! On that cruise!"
"Mind your own damn business!" She snaps, "and get out of my office why don't you!"
"Jack's going to be crushed." Howard teases, "I think he was working up to ask you out yet again in an even more insulting way."
A huff of annoyance exits her and she points to the door, "leave."
He throws up his hands in surrender. "Fine. Fine."
Then he leaves and she pulls up the flight app, seeing the altogether too slow progress of the plane.
—
She picks him up from the airport and takes him to his hotel. They eat dinner and catch up on the two weeks it's been.
He's even more delightful in the real world. Vacation always has a haze of an alternate reality. But here, as he walks beside her along the Potomac, the lights on the monuments behind them, he is as real as he can be.
Her hand fits nicely in his, and the warmth of the summer evening makes it easy to stay out late. They eventually make it back to his hotel and sit together in the lobby for a while, just talking.
Eventually he sighs and looks at his phone. "I have to meet with my boss tomorrow at 8:30. I should go." But then he smiles, "but I'll see you for dinner? Tomorrow?"
She nods, "I'll pick you up right here." She agrees. "I can't wait."
He kisses her, "me either."
—
"Where's Howard?" Peggy asks, stopping by Rose's desk with a form he needs to sign.
"He's on the 23rd floor with the designer. Where the remodel is happening." Rose states with a raised eyebrow at the form, "it was all in that email he sent out a week ago. He'll be busy all day."
Peggy curses, "I need to send this today."
Rose eyes her, "why didn't you get it signed before the deadline? That's not like you."
Truthfully, she's been less preoccupied with work and more preoccupied with phone calls at night and deep cleaning her apartment for Steve's arrival. "I just didn't think of it." She huffs.
"Did you get laid?"
The question makes her scoff in disbelief, "what? No, Rose, what a question. What the devil made you ask that!"
"You just seem content. Like you landed a man on that cruise of yours."
Rose has always been the most observant. Peggy has to control her grin. "Maybe I didn't get physically laid." She says with a smirk, "but I'm satisfied in every other way."
Rose gasps, "you're kidding! Tell me all about him."
"I will." Peggy assures, "just as soon as I annoy this signature out of Howard. I'll come right back. I have actually been dying to tell someone about him. Someone who won't search the internet's entire database to find him."
Rose laughs, "I'll be here, waiting on pins and needles."
Peggy nods and takes off towards the elevators.
—-
She steps off to find the construction almost done. Layers of paint already applied in some places, and design elements being added in.
"Where's Howard?" She asks a construction man to her left. The man points towards a hallway she knows leads to where the bigger offices will be. "Thank you."
The bare floors clack under her heels as she makes her way.
Two muffled voices are in the distance and she uncaps the pen, ready to have him sign and then be out of the way.
"—different." Howard says, voice still warped by the distance, "I don't believe your shit lies at all. Something's changed."
The responding muffled voice behind the hazy glass makes her tilt her head trying to discern what she can from it, "—please just focus on this? We have a long day."
She opens the door and sees Howard's back, his hips leaning against a desk and blocking whoever stands in front of him. "Asking Howard Stark to focus on anything is like asking a cat for a nice swim. All you get is panicked mania."
"Ha!" Howard barks back, "don't pretend you don't like it when I get all wired up."
"Oh please." She huffs, "now I don't mean to intrude, but I need a signature then I'll be out of your hair."
"Sure, Peggy, this is—" his voice pauses, shifting, "Steve? You okay?"
Steve.
Steve.
Designer.
She gasps in realization, just as Howard turns, revealing two wide blue eyes standing directly behind him.
"Steve—" she breathes out.
Just as he straightens, "Peggy!" And his smile is like the sun, "what are you doing here?"
She laughs, a sound that makes Howard's eyes pop out, "I work here! What are you doing here?" She asks, even though she's deduced the answer.
"I work for him—" he points to Howard.
She gapes at Howard, "Steve is an employee you also forced on vacation?"
"Wait, what the hell?" Howard asks, "you met?"
"You put us at the same damn dinner table on that cruise!" She scoffs, "of course we met!"
He frowns, "what? No I didn't. I didn't plan any of the details!" Then he looks between him, "holy shit!" He gasps, turning towards Peggy, "is this who you've been so distracted over!?"
Her immediate defense is to want to refuse. To deny any man's hold over her emotions or actions. But the way Steve positively glows at Howard's words makes her bite her tongue and take the road less taken. "As a matter of fact, he is."
Steve's grin is magnificent, and he turns to Howard, "now you have the answer to your earlier question about me too."
Howard looks confused for a mere moment before he looks annoyed, "wait you guys spent almost two weeks together and neither of you ever even mentioned my name!? What the hell!"
Peggy lets out the same unceremoniously snort she had back on the cruise and Howard looks ready to fall over before Steve laughs in response and claps him on the shoulder, "thankfully Howard, it's not all about you."
—-
6 Months Later
"This is a backhanded compliment isn't it?"
Peggy laughs, straightening the pillow, "he somehow thinks the more you're around, the nicer I am to him."
"Are you nicer?"
She smirks, "you make me happy. When I'm happy I can ignore or handle everyone's idiocy for a lot longer."
Steve sighs before he can't help but grin, "pretty sure I heard Howard use the phrase Taming of the Shrew—"
Her mouth drops open and she's about to release a very uncouth line of words about Howard Stark before Steve holds up his hands, "I'm just kidding. Although, maybe with the way he's conveniently assigning me every job within an hour of DC I should let you let him have it."
Peggy pulls him down beside her on the couch in his new little apartment in downtown DC Howard had insisted on. "The only one I'm ever letting have it, is you."
"I'm not sure that's the threat you think it is—"
She scoffs, "oh yeah? Well I'll just have to show you—" She doesn't let him respond as she pulls him closer to remind him who he's dealing with.