Who: Steve and Peggy What: Lazy morning Where: Their cottage When: Morning Sunday Rating: TBD Open/Status: Closed/Ongoing
Steve woke up slower than usual, where it was usually a harsh, jolting moment where it took him a moment just to realize where he was and what was going on, now it was slow and easy. He felt the light weight of the sheets over him first, then the warmth of Peggy tucked up against his side and draped over his chest, next was the almost too-warm feeling in the room that came from them worrying that Stevie-who'd recently taken up streaking it seemed-would get cold in the night, then finally the realization that he was actually awake and he opened his eyes. He'd had a dream just before waking but this one was different; this one was...good. It had just been something abstract and strange but he was surrounded by his friends and Peggy and Stevie and his other selves and all of the people that made him happy, dead or alive, and they were laughing, singing, telling stories like it was some huge party of his life. But instead of making him mourn, making him think about all that he might have missed or that would come, a warm happiness settled in his chest. It reminded him of his mother and the way she used to give him her sweaters when they couldn't afford the subway and had to walk and tell him I don't need it Steve baby, got all your love to keep me warm .
He looked down to Peggy with a small smile. She always looked so soft and peaceful in the moments he caught her sleeping. He loved that fierceness she held in every bit of her most of the time but there was something to be said about the calm, gentleness too. He had one of his drawing sets on the small table next to his side of the bed, one with some nice felt tip markers that he'd been fixated on lately, and he wasn't sure what made him want to, but he carefully drew back the sheets and the hem of Peggy's shirt, exposing the soft, pale skin of her hip and just barely there swell of her belly where it was pressed in to his side and then picked up the markers, opening the case and setting it next to his own hip. He picked up the first and brought it to her skin, just drawing aimless lines at first, though eventually, and as he started to pick up more and more colors, the shapes started to come through, of a group of four bluebirds, two larger than the others, flying over a sunset and a rainbow. He hummed softly as his fingers seemed to take over for a little while, while the bright points of his life, including the little boy he listened to breathing softly on the other side of the room, overpowered the dark shadows that usually took residence in his mind.