AU Milliways

[therighttime]

The door opens from one pub to the next. A rosy-tinted, warm little English pub filled to the brim with uniformed soldiers and local girls, crowing and laughing and being alive, really feeling it for the first time in longer than any of them would like to admit.

The woman who is leaving that particular pub is tall - very tall, inches over six feet - shapely in her 1940s olive dress uniform. Her make-up is fresh, her tie in perfect order, her hair is even curled in classic victory rolls (it took three showgirls three hours to make it happen, but they're all used to it by now).

Stephanie Rogers is grinning, flush-faced and filled with joy as she waves to a dark-haired soldier at the bar and steps purposefully into -- another bar.

She recognizes a shift, a difference immediately, and keeps one hand on the knob even as she frowns thoughtfully at the room around her.

Comments

[therighttime]

Not that she'd really go around sullying his name, or anyone else's, over anything so silly. But Steph's mouth can run away with her when she gets comfortable, perhaps too comfortable, and not too terribly ladylike. For the faint amusement without the laughter, her smile is a little forced, her head ducked for a moment in slight admonishment to herself.

Be a lady. Don't be crass. Don't be too familiar.

Even if the man across from her is familiar in so many ways.

She looks up in time for the toast and smiles again, a softer, sweeter thing. Her glass is lifted with his, offered for a clink.

"To a good man," Steph adds, then grins a little wistfully. "To a good person."

[stark_spangled]

The way she turns wistful catches at something inside Steve. He mirrors the expression, tapping his glass against hers. He's quiet as he tips the shot back, a moment of silence for a good person.

A good friend.

A great teacher.


"I'll drink to that," he says quietly, once the empty glass is back on the table. To Erskine, to Bucky, to Agent Carter...

And to new family, long desired.

"Pizza?" He brightens. Suddenly things feel a lot more hopeful.

[therighttime]

Steph swallows back her shot, savoring the taste, the smoothness of it. The memory of sitting in the doctor's on-base office while he told her stories, drank the bottle, teased her. Believed in her.

She sets her glass down beside Steve's, smile wistful. And brightening as soon as he does, chin lifted and eyes sparkling. "Pizza," Steph agrees, grinning. "Please."

They have a lot of sharing to do.