[ her eyes narrow. just a little -- as though she's wary of walking into a trap. but tony is the one who needs shoring up, tonight. not her. so, just as she's beginning to hear the kettle beginning to burst its first few bubbles, she asks: ]
What the devil is a pop tart? [ wait! she's heard about something like this. ray, in the stairwell-- ] Don't tell me it's another one of those snacks that crackles on the tongue like some sort of poorly devised torture device.
Those are pop rocks and they're great, don't diss. Pop Tarts are like cakes on a cracker. You heat it up. It's pretty easy, I'll get you a box next time.
[ next time it is, because tony stark, genius, millionaire, playboy, philanthropist, iron man himself, is all but dozing off at her table. ]
[ -- pop rocks. although perhaps that's only because she was given a handful without adequate warning. oh, she'd lost her temper that day.
who are we kidding? she loses her temper most days. but she can see him dozing, drifting, sliding away. and peggy considers swapping his earl grey out for a herbal infusion, like she can't dare to risk rousing him. chamomile would have been nice. but she doesn't want to trick him.
she starts pouring water. ]
But calling something a cake on a cracker doesn't exactly sell it well. Are anything like a proper tart?
[ ...red velvet is a lipstick colour, not a tart flavour. ahem. but peggy lets him chatter it out while she gives the tea bag a bit of a prod. just a minute or so to steep, and she wonders whether he'll even make it that long. once upon a time she might have moved to kick him out, to send him back to his room, to send him off.
but. it wasn't so long ago that she herself fell asleep in someone else's room. and in that moment, she'd needed that change of scenery and certainty that she wasn't alone. so peggy will let it happen, whenever it does. ]
[ and if he could keep his thoughts focused, he might have been able to tell her more about Pop Tarts and raspberries but tony is half asleep, trying to maintain a conversation even if he can't remember the details of it. ]
she could jolt him awake. she knows it would only take the right story, the right tidbit, the right spark of something curious and charismatic. but peggy makes her peace with the way he drifts. all she can think about (in the end) is his assertion that he hasn't been sleeping.
and not for the first time within the mansion's walls, she thinks about old habits. old duties. and of bruise-eyed men trying hard to drift to sleep after having seen too much and not done enough. with a tightening in her jaw, she has to wonder whether steve ever manages to sleep...
peggy retires to her chair. it's near his, but not so near to intrude upon the way he droops. ]
-- He does make a stellar scone, though. [ easy slow talk. nothing too exciting. indeed, it might be mistaken for dull. ] Mister Jarvis does. And he brews a better cuppa than I do.
[ she stages a quiet defense of her country's sweets. truth is, peggy's quite partial to what's on offer on his side of the pond. key lime pie! pies in general, actually. peggy glances at the closet and wonders if she shouldn't ask for a slice.
but she stays where she is, slurping tea. ]
Did you and I have tea, then, whenever we visited? Or did I deign to serve you coffee?
[ she feels a pang. they do sound like good times. the sort of times she almost wishes she could remember as fondly and as concretely as he can, because they've clearly left a mark on him. built a bridge between them that she has to work at even seeing, let alone traversing. but she suspects it's the weight of that connection that brought him back to apologize to her tonight.
it's humbling. ]
Once. [ she repeats -- almost smiling. ] Congratulations. I hope I let you keep your ill-gotten gains as a reward.
[ at least he does her the courtesy of warning her. this is just the beginning. good lord. ]
[ oh, for chrissakes. tony. peggy doesn't hide the way she touches her temple, now, at the imagined headache. howard's boy retching his guts out on the rug. and she wonders what she did. tossed him into a cold shower, probably, and made him drink a cup of raw eggs.
and then clean the carpet. ]
I hope not. [ a puff of air through her lips. ] Did I ever tell you about the time I was caught raiding a liquor cabinet?
[ it almost sounds like an old lady unable to remember what she has and hasn't said. in truth, peggy doesn't know how much of herself she ever revealed to the then-boy. ]
Uh - if it involves tales of that poison thing in a cup, the one from the eggs and the milk, I don't want to know. I am majorly hungover at the moment and I just said I will not be throwing up on your property.
[ he actually looks alarmed.it's something about the raw eggs. it was a trauma apparently. ]
Not at all. It involves brandy and a bandit's mask.
[ but his worry brings a fuller smile to her mouth. cruel, maybe, but she can remember the dread in her own stomach the first, second, third time she swallowed up that 'cure'.
michael made her drink it the morning after her first real lash. and then, bless him, he covered for her with their parents. ]
[ -- peggy isn't a natural clown. or a clown at all, really. but she does like to elicit laughter in others. there's a kind of victory in it: it feels more like a white flag, on the other person's part, than a simple smile ever does. laughter can be so sudden and thoughtless and instinctive. she knows she's taken a good path when she hears it burst out of a person.
so she chases that triumph a little further. ]
I was still in school. So, ages ago. I broke into the headmaster's quarters. Honestly, the stunt was all about stealing a bunch of his wife's, ah, [ a crinkle of her nose ] delicate things. But I got greedy and went back for brandy. Good stuff, too.
Or it would have been had I not gotten caught red-, and white-, and silk-handed in the middle of the bedroom.
[ she hides her expression behind another sip of tea. ]
Heavens, I pray I didn't punish you the way Portley punished me.
-- Knowing when not to say something is every bit as important as its opposite. [ knowing when to speak, when to shout, when to protest from the rooftops. but even outside of an affection for the young(er) tony, she can at least imagine a situation wherein keeping his secrets would keep her in his better books. something someone needed to do, evidently, if howard was failing him.
peggy's posture relaxes in her chair. once upon a time, she suspects howard absolutely would have understood. but perhaps that's the problem: the father might have seen a son too similar to him and descended harshly upon that reflection. peggy, on the other hand, can already see those little bits that remind her of a friendship she misses. it's easier for her to cherish the similarities. ]
Oi, I'll have you know the eggs are a Carter family tradition. Practically.
Traumatizing. That's a bit dramatic, don't you think?
[ honestly! these avengers and their drama -- as though she, herself, isn't prone to a theatrical description or three. peggy leans an elbow on the desk and watches him fondly. ]
[ in her defense, she was never much of a nursemaid. ]
Eggs are wholesome things. That's what. [ it stands to reason, doesn't it? but she's teasing and she's not looking to pour eggs or anything down his throat, just now, except for tea and tea and more tea. ]
it did work, I'll give you that. it was horrible but it worked. you were right.
[ he looks at her. ]
You were right about the events, too. I am scared. If they unleash that on this place, when people have nowhere to run - I don't know if I can help. I don't know if when the time comes, I won't - be useless. the man in the can.
why does it bother her so much? the words stick there, working through her thoughts, upsetting her. tony's right, of course. these events are horrifying. they have a way of flensing open every wound and weakness, and peggy has never felt as uncertain of her own abilities as she does now. here. ]
I know a little of how that feels. [ tartarus, that event, the one where she'd played useful and heroic but ultimately had depended on tony to see her through the tower. although tony does speak of something different -- not of a lack of ability, but a lack of fortitude in the face of his demons. ] Mister Jarvis would tell us both we'd -- need each other, likely, to see us through.
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What the devil is a pop tart? [ wait! she's heard about something like this. ray, in the stairwell-- ] Don't tell me it's another one of those snacks that crackles on the tongue like some sort of poorly devised torture device.
[ pop rocks. never forgive, never forget. ]
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[ next time it is, because tony stark, genius, millionaire, playboy, philanthropist, iron man himself, is all but dozing off at her table. ]
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[ -- pop rocks. although perhaps that's only because she was given a handful without adequate warning. oh, she'd lost her temper that day.
who are we kidding? she loses her temper most days. but she can see him dozing, drifting, sliding away. and peggy considers swapping his earl grey out for a herbal infusion, like she can't dare to risk rousing him. chamomile would have been nice. but she doesn't want to trick him.
she starts pouring water. ]
But calling something a cake on a cracker doesn't exactly sell it well. Are anything like a proper tart?
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[ it's something about her voice, the sound of water being poured and the scent of tea that makes it easier to nod off, to calm down. ]
Could work with that tea.
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but. it wasn't so long ago that she herself fell asleep in someone else's room. and in that moment, she'd needed that change of scenery and certainty that she wasn't alone. so peggy will let it happen, whenever it does. ]
What, no raspberry?
[ tea done, she nudges his cup by his elbow. ]
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[ and if he could keep his thoughts focused, he might have been able to tell her more about Pop Tarts and raspberries but tony is half asleep, trying to maintain a conversation even if he can't remember the details of it. ]
Thanks.
[ for the tea, naturally. ]
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she could jolt him awake. she knows it would only take the right story, the right tidbit, the right spark of something curious and charismatic. but peggy makes her peace with the way he drifts. all she can think about (in the end) is his assertion that he hasn't been sleeping.
and not for the first time within the mansion's walls, she thinks about old habits. old duties. and of bruise-eyed men trying hard to drift to sleep after having seen too much and not done enough. with a tightening in her jaw, she has to wonder whether steve ever manages to sleep...
peggy retires to her chair. it's near his, but not so near to intrude upon the way he droops. ]
-- He does make a stellar scone, though. [ easy slow talk. nothing too exciting. indeed, it might be mistaken for dull. ] Mister Jarvis does. And he brews a better cuppa than I do.
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[ because, even when made Jarvis tony always thought of them as uh, gross. ]
weird British food, really. it's like you guys never discovered brownies and cupcakes.
[ instead they baked raisins. d i s g u s t i n g ]
your tea's fine. haven't had tea in years.
[ he'll even raise his head long enough to take a sip or two. ]
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[ she stages a quiet defense of her country's sweets. truth is, peggy's quite partial to what's on offer on his side of the pond. key lime pie! pies in general, actually. peggy glances at the closet and wonders if she shouldn't ask for a slice.
but she stays where she is, slurping tea. ]
Did you and I have tea, then, whenever we visited? Or did I deign to serve you coffee?
[ dig, dig, dig. ]
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[ he nods, good times, those were. ]
I got it right once. Just saying.
[ he's quite proud of it, too. ]
Let me tell you, this is just beginning. I gave you a lot of shit.
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it's humbling. ]
Once. [ she repeats -- almost smiling. ] Congratulations. I hope I let you keep your ill-gotten gains as a reward.
[ at least he does her the courtesy of warning her. this is just the beginning. good lord. ]
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[ and okay, it wasn't his most graceful of moments but it was pretty fun while it lasted. ]
that won't repeat itself, I think.
[ he thinks. ]
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and then clean the carpet. ]
I hope not. [ a puff of air through her lips. ] Did I ever tell you about the time I was caught raiding a liquor cabinet?
[ it almost sounds like an old lady unable to remember what she has and hasn't said. in truth, peggy doesn't know how much of herself she ever revealed to the then-boy. ]
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[ he actually looks alarmed.it's something about the raw eggs. it was a trauma apparently. ]
seriously. it doesn't involve that, right?
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[ but his worry brings a fuller smile to her mouth. cruel, maybe, but she can remember the dread in her own stomach the first, second, third time she swallowed up that 'cure'.
michael made her drink it the morning after her first real lash. and then, bless him, he covered for her with their parents. ]
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okay, I'm biting for that remark about the bandit's mask. I'm listening.
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so she chases that triumph a little further. ]
I was still in school. So, ages ago. I broke into the headmaster's quarters. Honestly, the stunt was all about stealing a bunch of his wife's, ah, [ a crinkle of her nose ] delicate things. But I got greedy and went back for brandy. Good stuff, too.
Or it would have been had I not gotten caught red-, and white-, and silk-handed in the middle of the bedroom.
[ she hides her expression behind another sip of tea. ]
Heavens, I pray I didn't punish you the way Portley punished me.
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[ he never did anything like that. what a shame. ]
No. The egg-poison thing was really all the punishment I got.
[ he pauses before adding. ]
you didn't tell, [ howard, that is ] and it - I appreciated it. he wouldn't have understood.
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peggy's posture relaxes in her chair. once upon a time, she suspects howard absolutely would have understood. but perhaps that's the problem: the father might have seen a son too similar to him and descended harshly upon that reflection. peggy, on the other hand, can already see those little bits that remind her of a friendship she misses. it's easier for her to cherish the similarities. ]
Oi, I'll have you know the eggs are a Carter family tradition. Practically.
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[ the memory alone makes him shudder and put his head down again. ]
I think I prefer the fairy cake, just saying.
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[ honestly! these avengers and their drama -- as though she, herself, isn't prone to a theatrical description or three. peggy leans an elbow on the desk and watches him fondly. ]
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[ okay so maybe a bit dramatic. ]
you know, you forced it down my throat when I was sick, too. what is it with you and eggs?
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Eggs are wholesome things. That's what. [ it stands to reason, doesn't it? but she's teasing and she's not looking to pour eggs or anything down his throat, just now, except for tea and tea and more tea. ]
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[ but he's still smiling. ]
it did work, I'll give you that. it was horrible but it worked. you were right.
[ he looks at her. ]
You were right about the events, too. I am scared. If they unleash that on this place, when people have nowhere to run - I don't know if I can help. I don't know if when the time comes, I won't - be useless. the man in the can.
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why does it bother her so much? the words stick there, working through her thoughts, upsetting her. tony's right, of course. these events are horrifying. they have a way of flensing open every wound and weakness, and peggy has never felt as uncertain of her own abilities as she does now. here. ]
I know a little of how that feels. [ tartarus, that event, the one where she'd played useful and heroic but ultimately had depended on tony to see her through the tower. although tony does speak of something different -- not of a lack of ability, but a lack of fortitude in the face of his demons. ] Mister Jarvis would tell us both we'd -- need each other, likely, to see us through.
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