[Nothing storybook, perhaps, but Rip expects that over the weeks to come they would find their balance. Tonight may have been originally meant for work, yet after the events of last week it simply could not be. They were both far too distracted, as their earlier attempt at conversation proved; perhaps they could have shifted into more relevant topics, her progress with Leo Fitz, any contacts Rip might have made, and yet the unresolved tension would have lingered in the back of their thoughts.
Last week proved, if nothing else, that there had been a dam ready to burst between them. Tonight provides an opportunity for that water to flow, a controlled release rather than something more akin to disaster.
Bumps happen along the way, and Rip suspects they'll both wind up with a number of small bruises for their trouble. That, and Rip would find himself straightening any number of things, as the sound of something smacking against the surface of the shelves causes a momentary distraction--but no real need to look and see just what has fallen.
Not when her hands find his sides, press warm against his skin. He expects she'll have his shirt tugged off in a minute; he's only worn the one tonight, and that speaks of his anticipation as much as anything else. Instead she sends him back with a shove, Rip letting out a small cry of surprise as his back hits the mattress behind him. Really, hindsight tells him he should have expected nothing less, particularly when Rip leans up on his elbows to see the satisfaction in Peggy's face.]
Horizontal indeed, Ms. Carter--although regrettably alone. [Even if only for the time being. He's tempted, sorely so, to shoot up in bed and take hold of whatever part of Peggy he might reach, her hands or her arms, or even her waist; to drag her into bed with him, leave her shocked and surprised for a moment.
Except curiosity wins out. Rip's already seen her react to the unexpected. So instead he waits, braced on his elbows, head lifted up to watch her. If her opinion of this improvement remains unspoken, then surely his question falls into the same tone.
All eyes on her, with a look that proclaims she has him; now what will you do?]
no subject
Last week proved, if nothing else, that there had been a dam ready to burst between them. Tonight provides an opportunity for that water to flow, a controlled release rather than something more akin to disaster.
Bumps happen along the way, and Rip suspects they'll both wind up with a number of small bruises for their trouble. That, and Rip would find himself straightening any number of things, as the sound of something smacking against the surface of the shelves causes a momentary distraction--but no real need to look and see just what has fallen.
Not when her hands find his sides, press warm against his skin. He expects she'll have his shirt tugged off in a minute; he's only worn the one tonight, and that speaks of his anticipation as much as anything else. Instead she sends him back with a shove, Rip letting out a small cry of surprise as his back hits the mattress behind him. Really, hindsight tells him he should have expected nothing less, particularly when Rip leans up on his elbows to see the satisfaction in Peggy's face.]
Horizontal indeed, Ms. Carter--although regrettably alone. [Even if only for the time being. He's tempted, sorely so, to shoot up in bed and take hold of whatever part of Peggy he might reach, her hands or her arms, or even her waist; to drag her into bed with him, leave her shocked and surprised for a moment.
Except curiosity wins out. Rip's already seen her react to the unexpected. So instead he waits, braced on his elbows, head lifted up to watch her. If her opinion of this improvement remains unspoken, then surely his question falls into the same tone.
All eyes on her, with a look that proclaims she has him; now what will you do?]