sixthiterationlogs | [MINGLE] Worried/Sick 1: Symptoms Manifest & Reaction

[MINGLE] Worried/Sick 1: Symptoms Manifest & Reaction

WHERE: Anywhere; multiple locations
WHEN: Apx. 13-18 November
OPEN TO: ALL - MINGLE
WARNINGS: Serious illness and reactions to such

IMPORTANT NOTES: This is the first of two mingles. Please see the timing and general event details here.

Illness Presents and Putting Heads Together will have their own top-levels in this post, but you may make separate top-levels for whatever you like! Anything is welcome, as long as it tangentially relates to the Worried/Sick plot.

Please keep in mind the established plot details, but creative license is welcome and encouraged as long as it doesn't step on toes.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Course you are. You're Agent Carter. Grew up trying to design spy gadgets for you that you didn't need anymore." The weight and warmth he puts to the words- it's more than the affection he puts into Aunt Peg. That's- periphery to who she is. It's who he was for him. Agent Carter? Is who she was for the world.

Someone remarkable.

Someone unshakeable.

"You just- when I got here? Didn't seem like you wanted to hear me speak ill of him."

Her breath in shakes, even though she doesn't want it to and it makes her angry that it does. She wants to be more in control than this, but she knows that the illness is making her different, simply because she's not at her best.

"I don't want anyone to speak ill of him or you if it's not deserved," she makes it clear. "If you have cause or reason or history behind it, I'm not going to argue that." She closes her eyes, grasping the edge of the bed to steady herself. "I'm sorry, if I wasn't clear in that."

Well then. Better to rip off the bandaid. It comes out slowly, like pulling shards of glass from an inflamed wound. "He knew. About the accident. Buck's involvement. Knew, lived around me, worked with me, and didn't tell me. Kind of had a recording of the incident shoved in my face with Buck standing two feet to my left after...a long, stressful, fucked up week. Didn't take it well. Kind of sore at him, still. Ish? A little. We said clean slate but I'm not sure I can manage that the way he needs me to."

But he wants to try.

"You should lie down. I think the next bed's empty?"

When Tony tells the story, Peggy finds that she's not surprised. She's not angry, nor disappointed. After all, doesn't she know precisely how far Steve will go for James Barnes? Perhaps the only sadness she feels is that Steve still has to protect him and remains in his shadow, the same as Peggy remained in Steve's.

She presses her lips together and nods, thinking Tony is speaking quite sensibly. "Yes, I probably should," she murmurs, reaching out, but only making it to sit on his bed. "Here's fine," she insists. "Have you forgiven Steve? Or just Barnes?"

"I don't know." It's the most honest he can be. "Barnes I forgave awhile ago. Steve- I don't know. I thought we were friends, he didn't trust me. That...kind of stings."

And they've talked about it. They said clean slate and he's trying. He is. But some things still stick and ache and it's easier to ignore all of it when he's not thinking about how fucking lost and alone Steve must be.

She can understand how that would potentially go poorly. She would never want to feel as though Steve didn't trust her. She would likely want to hold a grudge, as well. And yet, if there truly is a deep friendship and even a love, then she knows that at some point, it would happen.

"Does he trust you now?" Peggy asks, which seems a rather simple question, so maybe that's the fever speaking for her.

"I don't know." How can he be sure? It's not something you ask, it's not something he's got any kind of right to expect. Demanding that after everything- it'd be the height of entitlement.

"I really don't." He wants to try but- Extending too much trust too soon last time is part of why it all went wrong.

"We're all too sick for it to be important," Peggy says, feeling like that's wise or somehow critical, but then the thought slips away from her and she leans forward, listing a little as she reaches out to hold onto Tony, patting his shoulder.

"Budge over, will you," she insists, because she's not making it to another bed when the warmth from him seems so lovely. "I'll pat your hair, if you let me stay."

"Fair enough." He can't think of much of anything right now- other than the way the world sort of swims and settles at that promise. He's not going to cry, he isn't, he's- going to budge over to give her the room she's asking for, voice thick, smile a little watery. "Haven't done this since I was nine."

Much too old for it by his father's estimation, but who in their right mind told Peggy Carter no? No one that could hold to it, that's who.

She gives a soft humming noise as she keeps stroking his hair, settling into the room he gives and tugging the blankets up to cover the both of them. Peggy knows this is a grown man beside her, but she can imagine him at nine, wondering if they've done this, only with her older and him younger.

"I'm glad that I seemed to have still had time for you," she murmurs. "I always worried, myself, that I lacked some of the core requirements that people who become mothers or motherly need."

It's as soothing as it's ever been, leading Tony to list into the contact, eyes fluttering shut with a quiet sigh. He's good. He's safe. It's not home, it's not his childhood and fever sucks like it's always sucked but-

They'll make it through this he's sure.

"You're a good Aunt. A great mom." He only knows the latter from observation but- she's beloved. Respected.

"I don't know that I ever will be, if I stay here," she admits, her heart aching a touch to think of a future that won't be. It's not the first time she's thought of it, because the early days after losing Steve had been so hard, that she thought some mornings, she wouldn't get out of bed.

"I'm glad I've been good to you, though," she says, latching onto the positive. "I'm sure I'm very proud of you."

"Who would you settle down with?" Wait- does he want to know who she'd look to, does he really have any kind of right to her lovelife? She's her own person, someone connected and not to him, and it's- complicated. Or simple.

Figuring this out is a bitch when he's not all fever fogged. "You tell me that more than Dad. Always do. Even when I'm a little shit."

Peggy swallows back that thick knot in her throat, the one that feels a terrible amount like grief. If she felt better, she wouldn't be saying this, but she's not. "I always imagined, before the war ended, what things would have been if Steve and I had that dance and our date." Shaking her head, she moves on.

"I don't know. I only began to even begin to consider other men before I got here, and not seriously, not having kids serious," she clarifies. "And your father simply liked to hold things tight to his vest, even from me."

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[MINGLE] Worried/Sick 1: Symptoms Manifest & Reaction

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