on_va_voir (on_va_voir) wrote in districtmarvel, @ 2015-10-31 16:36:00 |
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Entry tags: | peggy carter, steve rogers |
Who: Steve and Peggy
What: Apologies. Groveling.
When: The morning after the Arena party; after Steve's texts with Scott
Where: Maximoff Hotel
In hindsight, the fact that Steve had been drugged should have been obvious. He'd been aware enough last night to know that he wasn't acting quite himself, but it hadn't even occurred to him that there might have been something more than alcohol at work in his system. Scott's revelation, then, that the Capitol had drugged the food (and probably the drinks) they'd put out, went a long way toward explaining Steve's behavior last night. It explained, but it didn't excuse, and Steve had an apology to make that couldn't wait, no matter the fact that he felt a lot like he'd been trampled by something very large and very heavy. He ached all over, as if he'd been going at a punching bag for hours on end, his body straining to a breaking point. He'd slept fitfully, too, and the dark circles under his eyes were a testament to that. Even the long, hot shower he'd took hadn't done much to erase them, though it had brought certain mortifying memories from last night's shower rushing back. Still, he wasn't about to put off talking to Peggy, not when last night had the potential to ruin everything they'd been hoping for.
Steve had briefly considered gathering a bouquet of flowers from the surrounding jungle, something to offer Peggy when he saw her, but as of right now, Steve was officially regarding anything that looked appetizing, smelled amazing or appeared beautiful as a potential threat. It wouldn't end well for anyone if he inadvertently handed Peggy a bouquet of poisonous flowers. Luckily, his room had been stocked with some glossy magazines, their pages a riot of color: light reading, no doubt, for some of the hotel's visitors. Steve had torn the prettiest pages out, creasing them into neat squares, and then he'd taken most of the morning to turn them into intricate paper flowers. Victors were supposed to have Talents, after all, and while Steve knew well enough that many of the Talents were a sham, art had always come naturally to him, always been something he genuinely loved, and it was nice to put those skills to work right now. It felt refreshing and clean, untainted by the awfulness of the previous night, by the Capitol's influence.
This was simply a matter of making something nice for someone he cared about, very much. This was needing to be able to give Peggy something more than just a simple sorry, though that would, obviously, be included in his apology.
Once he was satisfied with the bouquet, he got dressed, grimacing once again over the clothes his stylists had sent him with. The shorts were reasonable enough, with plenty of pockets and zippers to distract from the way they clung to him, but the shirt was skin tight, with a plunging neckline that showed off far too much of his chest. Still, at least this outfit included a shirt; he was grateful for that, at least.
Bouquet in hand, and as dressed as he could manage, Steve locked his room behind him and set off down the hall and then went down a floor - pointedly choosing the stairs over the elevator - until he arrived at Peggy's door. He knocked sharply, then waited, giving his nerves away in how tightly he was clutching at his handmade bouquet.