Re: log, Manhattan: Sharon C/Steve R
Of course he didn't like the contingency plan, because it was contingent on a turn of events he didn't want to happen. But, the world had nothing to do with what he wanted. So he nodded all the same, politely, the picture of a soldier at attention, save for the fingers twined with his, and he took in what she said. He stowed it away with all of the other percolating knowledge, stored with perfect recall. Personal philosophy aside, much like her aunt, Sharon inspired in Steve an almost automatic trust—a belief in what she said, backboned with the steel of unfaltering conviction.
As she looked him over, her mental snapshot submerged in a brine of chemicals, the soldier did the same, but without the awareness of the fact. He gazed down at Sharon, almost startled by her movement away from him as she went for the door. Steve too took a deep breath, stooping as he did to fetch up the circle of his shield. He had been about to nod, when Sharon leveraged herself on her tiptoes and tapped her own cheek, indicating where he could plant a kiss.
With a slow, indulgent spread of a smile, Steve dropped the shield with a clang, a hum of vibration ringing on. He slid hands around the smart cut of her tailored suit with absolute presumptuousness and intended insinuation. He put his hands to the small of Sharon's back for lift and brought her up for a kiss. It wasn't anything heady. But it was entirely sincere. And as selfish as it was, he let himself have the moment in itself, capsulated by nothing more than his lips on hers and any other contact made.
After a moment, he settled her back on soles and smiled, ticked forward, and gave her a small peck on the cheek. Steve stood back at attention, he reached now for the knob, and slid a hand outward, indicating she should go first. "Ma'am."