womanofvalue | Open RP Post

Peggy curls in with him, letting the warmth of his body wash over her. Even though she can prioritize the mission, Peggy is also more than capable of thinking about all the time they've lost not doing this and how she intends to make up for that by soaking up every last bit of sensory experience. She wants to remember all of this, in the event that it goes away.

"Are you a military man?" Peggy feigns ignorance, appearing bright-eyed and desperately interested. She reaches out and presses a palm to their mark's chest, stepping away from Steve to get closer to him, just enough so that her perfume and figure are an intoxicatingly close distance. "I bet you have some wonderful stories and Steve never tells me all of his," she says, with mock-upset. "I'd love to hear some from a real hero."

Their mark huffs a little and just the tiniest hint of red at his ears tells Peggy that she's got him, if she wants him. "Darling," she says to Steve. "Get us some drinks, won't you? We can't have a hero be thirsty before he tells us about his experiences."

Steve feels a hot surge of jealousy rise in his chest when he sees Peggy touching the mark and he nods stiffly, the muscle in his jaw twitching as he walks away. He knows it's all for show, for the sake of the mission, but there's something in him that is too honest to be able to stand seeing his girl flirting with someone else.

Not just his girl. His wife, for the purposes of this mission, and maybe the vows didn't actually happen but damned if he's not just as jealous over her affection all the same.

He takes a moment to cool off and brings back three glasses of champagne. He's not much of a drinker but he thinks he's going to need it to get through the rest of tonight.

Peggy can read Steve well enough, even after all this time, to know that he's not entirely pleased at the moment. She tips her head to the side to give him a look that says that they're doing this for a reason, but then she's back to being the demure Mrs. Rogers, taking the champagne to give to the man, eager to ply him with liquor to start loosening his tongue. He's started to talk about some missions, but only enough that she's managing to get the names of a few towns.

It's helpful, but not enough. "I've always wanted to go to Russia," she shares, "we spent our honeymoon in England," she lies, fabricating it from the fantasy of what she'd wished that they'd done. "Perhaps you have some good experiences you could share? Lovely little restaurants?"

"Do we have the time?" he jokes.

"Always," Peggy promises. "We're just in town, you know. I'm sure if we run out of time tonight, you could always drop by our home, couldn't he, Steve?"

"He could stop by for dinner in a few days," Steve says. He forces himself to make it sound polite, to make it sound as if he really did want to extend a dinner invitation to the man currently staring down Peggy's décolletage. It's hard to do but he's never shirked away from something just because it's hard. He's often looked at those kinds of situations as the challenges that make a man brave.

He can be brave for a moment.

"What do you say, Peg? We could cook up a roast, have him over?"

Peggy is certainly not going to be the one to cook the roast, not if they want to keep up the illusion of her being a demure housewife. She might have to call into the office to deliver something, but she instantly nods to Steve's suggestion, pretending that it's certainly the best idea she's ever heard. "With potatoes and all," she agrees, with a hint of simpering sweetness.

She leans in to kiss his cheek, promising that they'll speak soon. When she's done, she clasps Steve's hand and turns away to guide him to the bar where they can decompress and linger before leaving, lest it look like they only came for one thing.

She lifts a gloved hand to order them two mimosas, settling upon the stool and crossing her legs. "Steady now," she advises Steve. "I want to be out of here as much as you do," she promises, faking a smile at a passing neighbour. "We'll get our chance soon enough."

"I can certainly have a drink or two with you," Steve says. He thinks he might need it to steady his nerves even if alcohol doesn't metabolize in his body the same way now as it did before the serum. Now, it takes a hell of a lot to get him drunk and he's never really tried. It'd mean drinking an entire keg on his own or something like that and Steve doesn't have enough taste for alcohol to warrant drinking like that.

He deals with his pain in other ways, in ways that don't alter his mind and leave him blank. Catharsis is something that doesn't come easily for him. He doesn't need catharsis tonight, though, and when the drinks come he lifts his glass to Peggy to toast.

"To my beautiful wife and partner," he says, meaning every word of it.

Peggy's eyes soften, but this isn't for show. Steve announcing her as his wife in public is something that she'd imagined in her wildest dreams, yet here she sits with him as he says it in reality. She hears the clinking of the glasses as if a distant memory, and tips her head to the side, staring at him with as much fondness and love as she had during the war.

"You know, I always thought if you did come back to me, it would be in far worse shape," she admits, listening to her false rings clink against the glass. "I imagined nursing you back to health over weeks and months."

"You know it's almost impossible to kill me," Steve says, laughing that off. A scenario where he'd need to be nursed back to health would be pretty extreme. Still, it's a nice image and he smiles at her.

"I could fake it if you wanted to dote on me for a little while. I get the sense it isn't something you'd do for just anyone."

"It's no fun if you're faking," Peggy insists, since in her mind, she would feed store-bought soup to Steve while she helped him with stretches, returning a soldier back to health while getting to steal away so many intimate moments because of that care. "I don't want to have this discussion here," she admits, because there are things she wants to say to him that don't belong in the public eye.

Especially not if they're being watched. Still, they're supposed to be married, so she's allowed to reach out and entangle her glove-covered fingers with his, sliding her seat just a little nearer as she stares at him without pretense or falsities, as in love with him now as she had been when he'd jumped on a grenade.

"One more drink?" she suggests. "We can let that be our timer?"

"Yeah, you're right," Steve says, tangling his fingers with hers. He wants all the intimate moments he can get with Peggy even if he has to steal them in public.

"One drink and then we can head home and I can start paying up on some promises, okay?"

She has questions she wants to ask before the promises can come due, but her whole body still shivers at the promise, making her nod her head. She leans over to order them a second round of martinis, pressing a kiss to Steve's cheek as she does, eager to play the part to fullness. Not only will it sell them to their mark, but she wants to, and she wants to be selfish, for once.

"I'm curious which one you're eager to repay first," she admits.

"That's not really something to discuss with a lady in public," Steve says, reaching out and tucking a curl back behind her ear where its escaped. He loves touching Peggy and he's glad this mission is giving him a chance to touch her as much as he wants.

He's glad that she's giving him a chance.

"You didn't get the idea from what we did yesterday?"

"Oh, I got the whole diagram, but what comes first can say a lot about a man," Peggy replies easily, a mischievous smirk in her eye as she dabs the olives in her martini against the rim of her glass, sipping it slowly as she keeps her eyes on Steve. She has her own ideas, after all, even if there are important questions she wants to ask him before they get to that.

"I have my own designs, after all. What if they're not compatible?"

"Well, that's something we're going to have to work on. I'm a team player," Steve says, reaching out and touching her wrist. He draws his fingertips along it, just enjoying the chance to touch her as much as he wants after so much time apart. He's always been very visual and very tactile; he thinks it's because of his eye for aesthetic and his ability to draw.

"But one of the first things I want to do is just look at you. It's been a long time since I've been able to look at you as much as I want and I want to take a moment to just lay my eyes on every inch of you."

"In that case, our plans do align," Peggy says, but she doesn't tell him what her intentions are, because as soon as they're back home (home, what a concept, a home with Steve), he'll find out soon enough. Every time he touches her, her smile softens as she stares at him with such overwhelming fondness.

"I still can hardly believe it's you," she admits. "Feeling you warm, pressed up against me this morning, I thought I was still dreaming." She swirls the martini, hating that there are still a few sips left as she wants to go.

"I thought it was a wonderful dream," Steve agrees. Waking up with Peggy in his arms had felt like the culmination of years of anticipation. He'd lost so much time with Peggy and now, getting to be with her in this domestic situation? This was a well-deserved bit of heaven.

"I'm hoping that there's reality tonight, though. I can't live with just dreams, Peggy."

"No, I should hope not," she agrees, her eyes sparkling as she looks him over, a keen and hungry look in her eyes. With one last sip, her drink is done and she sets the empty glass on the bar. "Now, I have to go say goodbye to our new dear friend's wife to make sure I still have strung along, just in case. Will you make sure we have the car?"

"I'd like to start exploring those dreams of yours," she says, feeling rather blunt for saying this out loud, "Starting with something I'd like to do, for you."

To his credit, Steve doesn't blush. He wants to because something about Peggy Carter turns him into a 95 lb schoolboy but he manages to keep his composure just enough. He tosses back the rest of his drink and gives her a nod, going outside to have them call for the car.

Once that's done he picks up Peggy's wrap and his coat before going to find her again; his arm slides around her waist and his lips find the crown of her head.

"Come on, Peggy. Let's get out of here?"

Peggy licks her lips, dabbing the corners with her napkin in order to avoid her lipstick smearing anywhere. She rises to her feet and curls into Steve's warmth when she's done saying their goodbyes. "Let's," she agrees warmly, walking out and knowing that as soon as they're back to the home, she'll feel even more relief at being alone.

She finds that even in the car, she wants to talk openly with Steve. In its place, she slides her palm over his thigh, squeezing gently before it can get too high.

Steve takes in a sharp breath when her hand touches his thigh and he covers it with his own, hoping to slow her progress. He wants it, yes, but he doesn't want to lose control and do something he regrets while they still have a while on the road. While the club isn't so far from the house they've been assigned, it feels like an eternity when all he wants is to be alone with Peggy.

"You looking to get started before we even get home? That's a little much, Mrs. Rogers," he jokes, voice a little strained.

"Hardly, when I already have something in mind for you, Mr. Rogers," is her reply, relaxing her hold on him. She doesn't want to press too hard or push too much, seeing as she does have an idea as to what she wants to happen tonight, but there are things she simply can't help herself with.

"Am I affecting you, darling?" she asks, the picture of innocence.

Steve gives her an exasperated look because yes, she is affecting him, and anyone with eyes or ears would notice that. His heart feels stuck in his throat and his breathing is anything but regular.

Something about Peggy Carter turns him back into a wheezing asthmatic.

"Just a little," he concedes. "Am I affecting you?"

That little sound of exasperation earns a big grin from her, accompanied by an adoring laugh. "Yes, of course you are," she guarantees, because while she might be smiling and laughing, the intent in her eye is a hungry one, eager to get back to their temporary home so she can start in on the first thing she intends to do.

"Only a little though," she hums and pats his thigh before removing her hand. "I'm slipping."

"Well, you seem like you're a lot more in control than I am," Steve says, laughing softly. Women control their desire better as a general rule and Peggy is known for being cool under pressure.

"Is there any way I can get you as breathless and desperate as I am? Because that's how I would really like to see you, Peggy."

Peggy's eyes flick to the driver and then back to Steve, a touch embarrassed at the discussion and luckily, her cover allows her to press her hand to her cheeks, as if they're heated and flushed. "Steve, not in public," is her coy remark, but she winks at him when the driver is making a turn, glad to see the house around the bend.

"You're going to have to give me fifteen minutes when we get in," she says. "To freshen up, and all."

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