[ The picture arrives right about the same time as his reply, so it can be assumed that she'd been stalling. It's not a great shot by any means; she still doesn't really like looking at photos of herself, so she's never mastered the art of taking selfies. At least it's not blurry? ]
Sorry, that's all I got.
[ Only for her to get frustrated by his message because... what, he'd just been messing around? He hadn't been flirting? And she fell for it again, got her hopes up for nothing? ]
See, this is why you get flashed in alleyways. Look, if you don't want it then just get rid of it. What do you really want?
why'd she have to stoke the cooling embers in his bombed-out shell of a chest? why'd she have to send him something so precious he'd never even consider deleting it? why'd she have to look so sad, so vulnerable, so impossibly lovely? so inviting he aches to touch her, and he can clearly imagine himself kneeling next to her bed and tucking her hair behind her ear, leaning in for the stupid fucking kiss he's been daydreaming about since he was a goddamned kid?
[ The five minutes feels so long and agonizing that she's started stress sketching on the margins of the book she's reading. Of course, the silence might not mean anything. He could just be on the move, doing whatever it is he's been doing these days. He's never shut her out, never left her behind, for no good reason. But it feels different, talking about... whatever this thing between them is. Or isn't. ]
Yeah. There's not much to do when you're old and retired. I have a book though.
( he shouldn't, but ... ) I'm thoroughly distracted, thank you. Can't stop looking at you. Now I'm wishing I was headed to your place instead of my shitty hotel room.
( that's all she gets, for about half an hour, while he winds his way through the city, trying to distract himself from thinking of how much he'd like to climb into that photo by taking in the sights and sounds. cars speed on an overpass above with a gunfire rapport; neon lights flash all around and he finds himself tensing for shrapnel and a shockwave. but he still keeps flicking back to that photo. it makes him feel way too warm, too stifled in his clothes -- or maybe just in his own skin. his damn nerves might as well be coming alive and wriggling. it's maddening, a little.
finally: ring, ring. he dials after he's changed into something more comfortable and set up shop on a pallet in the floor, surrounded by vending machine fodder. his greeting's accompanied by the rustle of a chips bag being open. )
[ The greeting catches her off-guard, makes her pause. First favorite girl, now gorgeous? Is he still playing along to whatever this is they've started tonight? Which, she supposes, is relatively harmless anyway because it's all just talk. He's too far away for either of them to really do anything that would... cross the invisible line that's long been drawn between them.
Maybe that's the point. ]
Hey, handsome. [ She sounds a little flustered, a little breathless. Then there's a rustle as she turns over on the bed. ] Still here, where you left me. Thinking. [ About things she shouldn't be. ]
No. I'm good. ( in answer to both, devoid of inflection. ) Just been doing a lot of reminiscing, and not the fun kind. I was here in the 80's. ( that's far more than he'd have said to anyone else in existence. feels like a terrible overshare. so, reminder: ) Wanna be distracted.
( silence, as he navigates back to that image in his texts, enlarges it. then a quiet laugh, more breath than voice. )
Your face. You look ... concerned. Or sad. You didn't think I'd your picture?
And, well, since the goal of the evening is distraction: ] I was trying to go for those puckered lip poses that women like using on dating apps. At least it's sad, not constipated. I haven't posed for a camera in decades.
[ Phew, good. Distraction is still a go. She's happy enough to oblige, especially in exchange for that information. ]
Well, it's about this girl who's small and sickly but she's been ordered to learn and undergo trials to become a dragon rider as there's a war brewing outside their kingdom. Dragons will incinerate the unworthy, though. There's a lot of romance and a lot of, uh, sex.
( that's the furthest thing from true. he never stopped worrying. he chainsmoked every day to keep from chewing his nails off. and he figured he might as well take what he could get, while he could get it. c'est la vie. )
I looked at you and thought ... I'd like to crawl up behind you in your bed, pull you up against me, and tickle you until you stop thinking so much. Then I'd have you read me a couple pages from your weird sex dragon story. And maybe I could figure out if you're wearing anything under those covers, while you're at it.
( they can, can't they? his back's propped up against the wall in a parody of relaxation. speaking of cigarettes, he could go for one, right about now. nerves. but his jacket's all the way across the room.
hearing her voice is nice. would've done wonders for morale to have the luxury of calling home, back in the day. and if anything's going to keep him from falling down the abyssal void of a rabbit hole he's staring into tonight, it's talking to her. amused at the page-turning, ) You gonna find me something juicy?
[ A precarious topic for them, all things considered. But he doesn't seem to be avoiding it this time at least, and, well, they both do a stellar job at pretending things never happened whenever it's necessary, anyway.
She finds a page and clears her throat. ] This isn't Tolkien or Wells, just so we're clear.
[ When she starts, it's not the well-practiced voice of Captain America that he hears. It's not even the tone she employs on the regular. It's lower, quieter... huskier. ]
( "tonight's special?" he doesn't appreciate that. it places what's said here on a temporal spectrum that extends into the future. ruins the immersion. regardless, halfway through her page, she'll hear his head thunk up against the wall.
this must be why people like that asmr stuff. it's less about the words she reads than the sound of her reading them, and the thought of her pretty, chaste lips forming them in that new, smoky tone. he's used to her giving wholesome inspirational speeches, throwing smartass remarks, or forgetting how to speak when somebody hits on her. this is very different. it makes him wonder if she's blushing. it makes him wonder just how much she likes her book. so, he listens, staring up at the ceiling, taking in the alto her voice has assumed ... and pulling faces at hilarious phrases like, "that sensitive bud".
the book sounds ... about as deep as a dime romance, honestly. but at least there's a pretension to wit, there. sort of? )
Yeah, no kidding, ( he drawls. this is pure porn. how many sentences of plot are there between sex scenes and characters wishing for another sex scene, he wonders. the tease is obvious in his voice. ) Never thought I'd hear you talk like that, Rogers. So, ... is that the "small and sickly" girl in this scene, getting "devoured"? ( with 'tongue and teeth, no less. )
[ A little too defensive: ] I take my job of distracting you very seriously.
[ Yeah, she's been blushing. She's not actually as prudish as most people believe she is, but reading what amounts to porn (badly written or not) out loud is embarrassing enough, let alone reading it to the person she imagines when she's reading such filth. His teasing only flusters her all the more. Why did she agree to this again?
Right, curiosity. And the chance to... have a conversation like this. One they normally wouldn't have as he's made it clear that anything other than friendship between them would be a terrible idea. ]
Yeah, Violet. The guy's Xaden, a dragon rider. Tough, competent, but emotionally distant with most people.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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Sorry, that's all I got.
[ Only for her to get frustrated by his message because... what, he'd just been messing around? He hadn't been flirting? And she fell for it again, got her hopes up for nothing? ]
See, this is why you get flashed in alleyways. Look, if you don't want it then just get rid of it. What do you really want?
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why'd she have to go and do a thing like that?
why'd she have to stoke the cooling embers in his bombed-out shell of a chest? why'd she have to send him something so precious he'd never even consider deleting it? why'd she have to look so sad, so vulnerable, so impossibly lovely? so inviting he aches to touch her, and he can clearly imagine himself kneeling next to her bed and tucking her hair behind her ear, leaning in for the stupid fucking kiss he's been daydreaming about since he was a goddamned kid?
a full five minutes of staring later, )
I'm keeping it. You in bed already?
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Yeah. There's not much to do when you're old and retired. I have a book though.
Feel better now?
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( that's all she gets, for about half an hour, while he winds his way through the city, trying to distract himself from thinking of how much he'd like to climb into that photo by taking in the sights and sounds. cars speed on an overpass above with a gunfire rapport; neon lights flash all around and he finds himself tensing for shrapnel and a shockwave. but he still keeps flicking back to that photo. it makes him feel way too warm, too stifled in his clothes -- or maybe just in his own skin. his damn nerves might as well be coming alive and wriggling. it's maddening, a little.
finally: ring, ring. he dials after he's changed into something more comfortable and set up shop on a pallet in the floor, surrounded by vending machine fodder. his greeting's accompanied by the rustle of a chips bag being open. )
Hey gorgeous, how you doin'?
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Maybe that's the point. ]
Hey, handsome. [ She sounds a little flustered, a little breathless. Then there's a rustle as she turns over on the bed. ] Still here, where you left me. Thinking. [ About things she shouldn't be. ]
When are you coming back?
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She hesitates for a moment, but she has to ask: ] Wanna talk about it? You're not hurt, are you?
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( silence, as he navigates back to that image in his texts, enlarges it. then a quiet laugh, more breath than voice. )
Your face. You look ... concerned. Or sad. You didn't think I'd your picture?
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And, well, since the goal of the evening is distraction: ] I was trying to go for those puckered lip poses that women like using on dating apps. At least it's sad, not constipated. I haven't posed for a camera in decades.
[ Is her laugh convincing enough? ]
didn't think I'd like* I cannot lmao
( chuckling, chip eating, more chuckling. )
Talk to me about your weird modern book and I'll tell you what I'm thinking about, looking at you.
lmao our tags also feeling the monday spirit
[ Phew, good. Distraction is still a go. She's happy enough to oblige, especially in exchange for that information. ]
Well, it's about this girl who's small and sickly but she's been ordered to learn and undergo trials to become a dragon rider as there's a war brewing outside their kingdom. Dragons will incinerate the unworthy, though. There's a lot of romance and a lot of, uh, sex.
Yup
( wow, how unrealistic. )
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[ But, yes. Very unrealistic, very modern ideas. ]
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( not that his french girls minded. )
I didn't have to worry about being dragon-worthy, though.
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You never worried about anything.
So, your turn.
[ She doesn't really want to hear about his war exploits. ]
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I looked at you and thought ... I'd like to crawl up behind you in your bed, pull you up against me, and tickle you until you stop thinking so much. Then I'd have you read me a couple pages from your weird sex dragon story. And maybe I could figure out if you're wearing anything under those covers, while you're at it.
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She clears her throat. Then there's the rustling sound of pages being turned. ] We can do two of those things right now, actually.
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hearing her voice is nice. would've done wonders for morale to have the luxury of calling home, back in the day. and if anything's going to keep him from falling down the abyssal void of a rabbit hole he's staring into tonight, it's talking to her. amused at the page-turning, ) You gonna find me something juicy?
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[ A precarious topic for them, all things considered. But he doesn't seem to be avoiding it this time at least, and, well, they both do a stellar job at pretending things never happened whenever it's necessary, anyway.
She finds a page and clears her throat. ] This isn't Tolkien or Wells, just so we're clear.
[ When she starts, it's not the well-practiced voice of Captain America that he hears. It's not even the tone she employs on the regular. It's lower, quieter... huskier. ]
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this must be why people like that asmr stuff. it's less about the words she reads than the sound of her reading them, and the thought of her pretty, chaste lips forming them in that new, smoky tone. he's used to her giving wholesome inspirational speeches, throwing smartass remarks, or forgetting how to speak when somebody hits on her. this is very different. it makes him wonder if she's blushing. it makes him wonder just how much she likes her book. so, he listens, staring up at the ceiling, taking in the alto her voice has assumed ... and pulling faces at hilarious phrases like, "that sensitive bud".
the book sounds ... about as deep as a dime romance, honestly. but at least there's a pretension to wit, there. sort of? )
Yeah, no kidding, ( he drawls. this is pure porn. how many sentences of plot are there between sex scenes and characters wishing for another sex scene, he wonders. the tease is obvious in his voice. ) Never thought I'd hear you talk like that, Rogers. So, ... is that the "small and sickly" girl in this scene, getting "devoured"? ( with 'tongue and teeth, no less. )
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[ Yeah, she's been blushing. She's not actually as prudish as most people believe she is, but reading what amounts to porn (badly written or not) out loud is embarrassing enough, let alone reading it to the person she imagines when she's reading such filth. His teasing only flusters her all the more. Why did she agree to this again?
Right, curiosity. And the chance to... have a conversation like this. One they normally wouldn't have as he's made it clear that anything other than friendship between them would be a terrible idea. ]
Yeah, Violet. The guy's Xaden, a dragon rider. Tough, competent, but emotionally distant with most people.
[ ... ]
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