&& extractionexpert

     “Angie and I are very pleased with the accommodations,      yes, thank you Mr. Jarvis. Please pass our thanks along      to Howard.”

     “I’m sure he’ll be pleased to hear it once      he returns from his vacation. I believe he’s      taken the prima ballerina of the American      Ballet Theatre to some island or another,      Lord knows when he’ll be back.”

     “Yes, that sounds like him. The day that man settles      down is the day Armageddon is at hand, mark my      words.”

New Agent Carter Season 2 Poster from SDCC

(x)

&& extractionexpert

     “Agent Carter, pleasure to see you again. I      trust things are still to your liking at your      apartment?”

     “Angie and I are very pleased with the accommodations,      yes, thank you Mr. Jarvis. Please pass our thanks along      to Howard.”

so this blog still exists.

spooky-steve

     T hey didn't need music to dance. She didn't care if there was music as long as she had him. He reminded her of a time when——and she couldn't believe she was looking back on a World War like this——but he reminded her of a time when things were easier. And she would welcome that warmth as long as he was there. “ This is much better than the Stork Club, ” she said just before he pulled away to look down at her.

     His kiss made her heart race like she was young again, hiding away in meeting rooms and meeting in the middle of the night. But his words shattered the mirage. No. No, she wasn't the same person she was then, but——“ I like to pretend I am sometimes. ” She hadn't meant for that to slip out, but there it was.

     And it hadn't occurred to her like that. That she'd had 70 years of changing and growing, and he'd had only 3, and she wasn't the woman he'd fallen in love with in the 40s. Not anymore. Sometimes, when he wasn't around, she knew in the grand scheme of things that was good. She was smarter, wiser, more experienced, and that couldn't be a bad thing. But when he was around, and she looked in his eyes and saw how hope looked again, she remembered how cynical she'd become. How... How sad.

     But when he was there, it was as if she remembered what it was like to be young and happy and hopeful again. In the most literal way, having him around made her back into the woman she'd once been. Not because he demanded it of her, not because he drew it out of her, not because he expected it. She wanted to be that again. Because she missed that hope, that happiness, that youth.

     “ You're not ready to be a father? ” she clarified through a smile mismatched to her words. “ Or you're not ready to be a husband? ”

     Or you're not ready to be my husband? A father to my children?

“ I know. ” The words were small, murmured against his shoulder softly. “ It’s a park now. Closed in 1965. October… Second, I think. ” All very matter-of-fact, certain except when she wanted to seem like she wasn’t. She wouldn’t admit it unless he asked, but she’d been there that day. On the second of October in 1965, the day it had closed. “ I used to spend a lot of time there, whenever I missed you… ” At least once a month for nearly twenty years. Except for a year between 1952 and 1953 when she thought she might have found a new love (it didn’t last). She had never danced, only let herself feel alone, surrounded by people. When it closed, she took to feeling alone when she was alone.

She pulled away a little to look up at him when he talked about the ice, eyes misty at best. Her chest ached for a moment as she realized how much pain she’d unintentionally caused him just by not seeking him out. She knew it was worth it——the lives of others, the safety of the population, took priority. But that didn’t mean she had ever meant or wanted to cause him pain. And for a moment she wondered if what she was doing now was fair or right. Only a moment. “ It doesn’t have to be all in your head anymore. There doesn’t need to be anything to stop us. There’s no Colonel Phillips to spy on us. There’s no war to get in our way. ” There were only her secrets between them, but she wasn’t thinking of that. “ Those dreams we made, seventy years ago, we can have them now. And why shouldn’t we? ”

spooky-steve

     “ I know. ” The words were small, murmured against his shoulder softly. “ It's a park now. Closed in 1965. October... Second, I think. ” All very matter-of-fact, certain except when she wanted to seem like she wasn't. She wouldn't admit it unless he asked, but she'd been there that day. On the second of October in 1965, the day it had closed. “ I used to spend a lot of time there, whenever I missed you... ” At least once a month for nearly twenty years. Except for a year between 1952 and 1953 when she thought she might have found a new love (it didn't last). She had never danced, only let herself feel alone, surrounded by people. When it closed, she took to feeling alone when she was alone.

     She pulled away a little to look up at him when he talked about the ice, eyes misty at best. Her chest ached for a moment as she realized how much pain she'd unintentionally caused him just by not seeking him out. She knew it was worth it——the lives of others, the safety of the population, took priority. But that didn't mean she had ever meant or wanted to cause him pain. And for a moment she wondered if what she was doing now was fair or right. Only a moment. “ It doesn't have to be all in your head anymore. There doesn't need to be anything to stop us. There's no Colonel Phillips to spy on us. There's no war to get in our way. ” There were only her secrets between them, but she wasn't thinking of that. “ Those dreams we made, seventy years ago, we can have them now. And why shouldn't we? ”

As he pressed her against his chest, she dipped her head to rest it on his shoulder. It was just a dance. A dance she’d have traded the world for a few decades ago. A dance she’d held onto hope for when all hope seemed lost. A dance she’d given up on once upon a time. A dance she’d dreamed of. A dance she’d never forgotten (no matter how hard she tried).

She tried to tell herself it wasn’t worth crying over, but his words reminded her how wrong she was.

“ I didn’t need it before. I would have loved it, but I wouldn’t have known——I wouldn’t have understood how good it felt to be back in your arms. I wouldn’t trade what this feels like for… anything. ”

She kept going back to the fact that, in seventy years, she couldn’t stop loving him. Loved other men, two or three here or there, sure. But that didn’t mean not loving him. She was beginning to think that wasn’t possible. “ Do you remember when I stole you into an empty little meeting room, and you held me almost just like this, and we talked about the Stork Club, and our wedding, our children… I’ve dreamed about that day. ” Not their dreams——those, she’d given up on ages ago——just having him near again, there to dream with and hold.

     As he pressed her against his chest, she dipped her head to rest it on his shoulder. It was just a dance. A dance she'd have traded the world for a few decades ago. A dance she'd held onto hope for when all hope seemed lost. A dance she'd given up on once upon a time. A dance she'd dreamed of. A dance she'd never forgotten (no matter how hard she tried).

     She tried to tell herself it wasn't worth crying over, but his words reminded her how wrong she was.

     “ I didn't need it before. I would have loved it, but I wouldn't have known——I wouldn't have understood how good it felt to be back in your arms. I wouldn't trade what this feels like for... anything. ”

     She kept going back to the fact that, in seventy years, she couldn't stop loving him. Loved other men, two or three here or there, sure. But that didn't mean not loving him. She was beginning to think that wasn't possible. “ Do you remember when I stole you into an empty little meeting room, and you held me almost just like this, and we talked about the Stork Club, and our wedding, our children... I've dreamed about that day. ” Not their dreams——those, she'd given up on ages ago——just having him near again, there to dream with and hold.

T his was better than the Stork Club. She remembered the Stork Club clearly——smoky, alcohol-scented, dark, lonely. This was so much better than the Stork Club. Surrounded by his scent from the comfort of his shirt. Bing Crosby playing quietly from the kitchen. Bright and happy, and how could it not be happy with Steve there? Seventy years without him, seventy years behind her full of secrets, and God only knew how many years ahead of her. Happy. With him.

One glance at him had her smiling as it was, but just when she was about to turn away, he grabbed her and pulled her away from the coffee machine she was fussing with. Her lips parted as she stared up at him, but she should have known what he was up to the moment he drew her closer. It shouldn’t have taken until he said the word dance, but it did.

And as soon as he did, she thought she might cry. She held back the tears, her free hand on his shoulder, and smiled at him. “ Better late than never. ” One tear slipped out, down her cheek, and she shook her head. �� I’m sorry. I’m being silly. I just… ” So many dreams. So many dreams she’d given up on. So much happiness she’d never thought she’d have. “ I never thought I’d hear you say that… ”

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spooky-steve replied to your post:spooky-steve: This wasn’t the Stork Club. She...

I hate you for this and you better believe I’m replying hard when I come back online! <3

[ :3 i can hardly wait ]

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spooky-steve:

This wasn’t the Stork Club. She wasn’t dressed up and her lips weren’t painted red. This wasn’t how he pictured it, and he didn’t prepare as he always thought he would.

No, this was her kitchen, and she was wearing the shirt he couldn’t find when he rolled out of bed. Her lips were pink and natural, something he’d come to love almost more than the deep color that had been her trademark. His hair stuck up every which way and his feet were slightly clumsy with sleep. 

This wasn’t how he pictured it.

Yet there she was, stealing grapes from a bowl as she hummed to music she must have put on earlier. This wasn’t what he thought it would be, but it occurred to him then that this was what he wanted, no, needed to do. 

Taking her hands, he brought her closer to him, dodging the confused look she offered him as he tried to remember how they did it in the movies. “I guess I should have asked for the dance beforehand.” Carefully, he placed a hand at the small of her back, the other intertwined with hers. “I’m sorry I was late.”

     T his was better than the Stork Club. She remembered the Stork Club clearly——smoky, alcohol-scented, dark, lonely. This was so much better than the Stork Club. Surrounded by his scent from the comfort of his shirt. Bing Crosby playing quietly from the kitchen. Bright and happy, and how could it not be happy with Steve there? Seventy years without him, seventy years behind her full of secrets, and God only knew how many years ahead of her. Happy. With him.

     One glance at him had her smiling as it was, but just when she was about to turn away, he grabbed her and pulled her away from the coffee machine she was fussing with. Her lips parted as she stared up at him, but she should have known what he was up to the moment he drew her closer. It shouldn't have taken until he said the word dance, but it did.

     And as soon as he did, she thought she might cry. She held back the tears, her free hand on his shoulder, and smiled at him. “ Better late than never. ” One tear slipped out, down her cheek, and she shook her head. “ I'm sorry. I'm being silly. I just... ” So many dreams. So many dreams she'd given up on. So much happiness she'd never thought she'd have. “ I never thought I'd hear you say that... ”

     S he felt tension, anticipation, desire, need curlif in every inch of her. Released for a short moment in a moan when he kissed her. “ Yes! Yes, there, just there, like that, just like that, ” she gasped desperately, leaving out the please on the tip of her tongue. Her tongue that she wanted slipping against his lips while their hips——God, she might as well beg. It would be easier.

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     S he took his hand and stood. “ Slowly, ” she instructed. “ You can handle it if you go slowly. ” She didn't like seeing him like this, but she wouldn't let him endure it alone. Even if he was hellbent on being macho and not letting her help.

H er face steeled. “ Oh, hush up. Would you leave me alone if I were in your state? No. So I’m not leaving you. ” She held out her hand to him, kneeling in front of him. “ Come on. Slowly. We can make it to the bed together, and I’ll get you a bucket. … And the rag was for your face, to wash the vomit away. I’ll get you a cool one for your fever. ” And an ibuprofen for his headache.