Re: Log, Paley Park: Peggy C & Steve R
She was about to say something completely ridiculous about sitting, perhaps look around for a seat a hundred yards away, at the very edge of her universe, when he took her fingers. The nervous fidgeting and tentative touching stopped, to become an aggressively familiar memory made real in the form of his hand holding hers. Something wrapped around her heart and squeezed, the breath right out of her and the cords tight. She had just... just accepted that he would never be there to touch her again, and now he was, and she didn't know whether to scream or laugh or cry.
The kiss was electric. Peggy had always thought to herself, in the embarrassed flush that came in unlikely places (strategy rooms, cold camp beds, deserted mess halls, lonely rooms clothed in bad wallpaper) how completely ridiculous she was about Steve's lips. There was no way he could possibly actually be electric. Clearly it was her brain that fizzled, not him. She couldn't explain the effect, and was careful never to try, not to anyone. It was so hopelessly girlish.
It was lovely.
Peggy tilted her head up to increase the pressure. For a moment, she had a rush of panic. Their kisses were always so quick, so stolen, and she felt suddenly that someone might interrupt at any moment, there might be a siren or an ill-timed cough, even a spat of gunfire or a rush of cold mountain air. Then he put his hands around her, and that crackling feeling went straight through the new dress, and the panic went away. He wasn't in a hurry. He was here, he was real. Now it was not just a kiss, it was kissing, with the stretch and gentle scrape of soft lips, the taste of her lipstick mixing in with whatever delicious male-flavor he hid behind his teeth. Peggy felt her whole head go up in mindless happiness.