ArchivedLogs:Vignette - Fondue

Vignette - Fondue
Dramatis Personae Peggy, Steve
In Absentia	1943-02-14 '
Location SSR Headquarters - London, England
The room is cavernous and drafty and dominated by an immense map table covered with little wooden figures representing troop movements across Europe. The briefing has concluded, and few of its participants seem very inclined to linger. They shuffle out in twos and threes or retire to the adjoining offices. Steve has had enough time since returning from the front to scrub down and get a haircut, though not enough time to catch up on sleep. He's in his duty uniform, clean and pressed and sharp. The man walking close beside him looks considerably less put-together -- dark brown hair messy, five o'clock shadow beginning to show -- though there's a spring in his step all the same. "So, those of us who couldn't find dates are going to drown our misery down at Chanticlair." Bucky slings his arm around Steve's neck -- or tries to; it's a difficult maneuver to execute on a taller and broader man. "Have you taken your shot?" "Not yet, and I'm not sure I like that particular metaphor." Steve is scanning the flock of departing SSR agents. A quick, nervous smile flashes across his face when he spots his mark, and he taps Bucky lightly on the side. "Wish me luck." Bucky punches him in the arm with a quiet "Good luck" before veering off to intercept Jim and Dugan. Steve hastens and catches up to the only woman who had attended the briefing as a participant and not assistant to one. Her brown hair worn loose but curled just enough to keep off of the collar of her brown uniform jacket, her makeup simple but impeccably applied, red lipstick stark against her winter-pale skin. "Agent Carter," he says, falling into step beside her. "Captain Rogers." Peggy smiles, more polite than warm. "How may I be of service?" "I was wondering if I might have a word with you in private?" Steve leads them toward the space that had been set aside for testing some of Stark's more exotic creations, currently unused. "Certainly." Peggy's tone is neutral enough, but her brows furrow ever so slightly as she follows him into the indoor testing range. Their footfalls echo softly in the large, empty space. "What is it?" she asks as soon as the door closes behind them. Steve reaches inside his uniform jacket and produces an envelope without postage or address. His cheeks flush pink as he holds it out to her. "Will you be my Valentine?" For a long moment Peggy just stares up at him, lips slightly parted though no words come out. She reaches for the envelope, then stops. Drops her hand and clasps the other to it. Tightly. "I'm very flattered, but...unfortunately, I must decline." "Oh." Steve's brows wrinkle -- as much a look of confusion as disappointment. "I'm sorry, I..." He lowers his hand to his side at last. "Steve..." Peggy reaches out as if to lay a hand on his broad, muscular chest, but steps herself again. "Please believe that I long for all the world to say 'yes', but I mustn't. Not while the war is on." "The war?" Steve echoes, both brows raised up now, incredulous. "Why? I know there's a lot to be done, but I'm not asking you to /marry/ me." "Because I'm a woman." There's a steely edge to her reply, though the gaze that holds Steve is still gentle. "Because men with a lot of gold braid on their shoulders and not nearly enough wits question my ability to do my work, /even now./ They will surely remove me from my post if they've half an excuse to suspect I were romantically involved with you, or any member of the team." "Your /ability?/ That's ludicrous, you're the best agent in SSR." Steve shifts the letter from one hand to the other, as if he finds it uncomfortable to hold for long. "That I may well be." Peggy stands up just a little straighter. "But it doesn't matter. They've got it into their minds women are the weaker sex, and they'll replace me in a heartbeat if they think me emotionally compromised." She takes Steve's hand and presses the letter to his chest. "You can give it to me when we've won. Good night, Captain." Steve nods jerkily. "Goodnight." He holds the letter to his chest as she turns to leave, and watches her until the door closes behind her. Alone in the empty space, he finally looks down at the enveloped and slowly tucks it back into his jacket. He turns and leaves the test range the same way he came, but only gets a few steps down the hall before the door to R&D opens in his path. A head of dark, glossy hair pokes out from behind it. "Cap!" Howard Stark flashes a roguish smile at him. His hair is perfectly coifed and slicked, his thin mustache perfectly trimmed. He's wearing a slate gray pinstripe suit, unbuttoned to show the matching vest beneath and the silver-and-black argyle tie -- somewhat more formal than his usual work attire. "C'mere, I got something for you." He doesn't wait for a reply, only ducks back into his lab, leaving the door open for Steve to follow. Which he does, shaking his head with a faintly amused smile. "Do you ever sleep?" "Sleep!" Howard laughs, the noise quick, short, and bright. "Well, /sometimes./ I'm working on that." He picks up a manilla folder and holds it out, then jerks it back before Steve can take it. "Before you open, though, I should warn you it -- it ah, it's a valentine." He extends the folder again, slowly. "If you're not comfortable with that, you don't have to take it." Steve's mouth falls open a little. His pale blue eyes drop down to the folder, then lift back up to Howard's face. He doesn't reply at once, but, very hesitantly, he reaches out and takes the folder. Flips it open. Inside is an elegant printed card featuring two putti wearing only strategically positioned sashes under the heading 'To My Valentine'. One of them is carrying a bow and quiver, the other kneeling to paint a red, white, and blue RAF roundel on one of his outstretched white wings. Raising his eyes from the card, Steve blushes a little. "So...what does this mean, though?" Howard's smile brightens. "Oh, I haven't quite worked that out yet, but I'm comfortable winging it. Let's start with some fondue."