[ yes, that's right, sex cacti. if steve is expecting story time, he came to the wrong house. this is a house that thrives on shorthand references to stupid things and a lot of liquor in the cabinetry.
like the bottle of vodka she pulls from an under-counter cabinet, its label a faux russian stylization meant to evoke memories that no one native to this century actually has. doesn't matter, though. the bottle still sells well enough. ]
Do you want something to mix it with? We have... uh. [ wait, what do they have? ] Juice, apparently. Or what I think is some futuristic knock off of Diet Coke.
[ Steve isn't overly fond of straight liquor but it took exactly one judgmental sigh from Natasha for him to learn his lesson about vodka and mixers. He declines politely: ] No thanks.
[ In lieu of juice or cola, he fishes a donut out of the bag and does not stop to wonder whether it's made with real flour or insects ground into a futuristic flour substitute. The important part is the sugar that will coat his tongue and render the burn of vodka just that much more tolerable. ]
[ so captain america is a ballsy, mildly stupid man. that checks out. he and illya share that insistence on no-nonsense know-what-you're-drinking behavior, at least. maybe if the man ever comes back into the living room from whatever he's doing elsewhere, they can bond over it. ]
Suit yourself.
[ she will, at least, bring him back both a shot glass and a rocks glass so he can figure out how he wants to do this. maybe he's a throw it back kind of guy, maybe he wants to nurse it. she doesn't know. she just knows that her drink will be mixed with juice like the american child she is. ]
So. [ she flops into the armchair opposite the couch, legs draping over the side arm like some kind of heathen who doesn't know how to sit properly in furniture. ] Welcome to our bougie crib. Are you getting settled okay, or are you still sleeping in the safehouse?
[ His insistence on drinking straight vodka has nothing to do with having been mildly chastised by Natasha and therefore being acutely aware of what mixing his drink would indicate about his cultural education (or lack thereof) and masculinity to the Russian in the next room. Steve is much too evolved to concern himself with something so trivial.
(It's about 10% of the reason, because constantly needing to defend your masculinity is a hell of a thing to unlearn. Mostly, he's just used to it by now, and he doesn't see how the bitterness of an orange or cranberry juice is any improvement on the taste of vodka.)
He is tempted to start throwing back drinks right away, but he is, as the kids say, a troll, and he wants to see how long it takes Daisy to realize he isn't even getting tipsy. So long game it is, and he goes for the rocks glass. ]
Are those two things mutually exclusive? [ Translation: no, he hasn't settled in, and yes, he is still sleeping at the safe house, but must she call him out on it? ]
[ it may take a while. unlike the last time daisy informally played bartender in her own apartment, this is not a drinking game, but rather a casual conversation. and, while daisy doesn't necessarily know steve's super sobriety skills, she does happen to know a little bit about captain america thanks to the good old-fashioned internet.
it shouldn't take too much to connect the dots between super strength and super sober, but once she's had a few drinks in her? who knows. ]
I don't know that you can really calling sleeping in a cot in the safehouse settled. [ by nature of a safehouse being an inherently temporary thing. ] But if it works for you, I mean, I can't really judge.
I've slept on worse. [ Because war. Also because you don't exactly get your pick of five star hotel suites when you raise a middle finger to the United Nations and are branded an international fugitive. Who knew?
He raises his eyebrows as his mouth forms a small, self-deprecating smile. ] You know, your words are saying one thing but your tone is saying the exact opposite.
Thanks. I appreciate the offer. [ He is nothing if not diplomatic. And stubborn. Jesus Christ, is he stubborn. It took a fair amount of convincing for him to stay with Bucky's family after his own mother's funeral, so God only knows what it would take for him to accept Daisy's invitation.
Anyway, time to deflect from him because we're very emotionally mature in this house. ] What happened to the closet guy? It seems like there's more of a story there.
[ if she's supposed to be mollified by his entirely-too-agreeable thank you, daisy fails miserably. she's not going to fight him on it, but she also doesn't believe for a hot millisecond that steve rogers has any real intention of taking her up on anything beyond a few hours' worth of crash pad couch time and maybe a few glasses of liquor. (and even then, she lowkey expects he's going to come back around some time soon with a replacement bottle.) ]
Any time.
[ but sure, she'll play along. she does mean the invitation, even if he's unlikely to take her up on it. one day, though, she's really going to need to investigate why all her closest male friends here are the ones that rock the stoic soldier vibe? (see: illya, jack, now steve...) ]
Marcos? He moved out a few weeks ago, I think? Got an apartment with my old roommate, actually. [ a beat, her attention lifting from the lip of her glass to watch his reaction. ] Katelin Philips?
[ or does he know her as bobbi? have they had that conversation yet? ]
[ Steve smiles, his chin tilting inward, eyes pointing down; an introverted expression, as if he's sharing a joke with himself. He does have to wonder how he always finds himself entangled in the complex world of spies and secret agents. ]
Do you mean Agent Morse?
[ In another time, another world, the deception might annoy him. But he'll give Agent Morse the benefit of the doubt given how quickly she came clean, and Daisy, to her credit, never seemed interested in secrecy. ]
She told me right after we met. You two worked together at SHIELD?
[ oh, thank god. daisy is horrible at lying on a good day, and while she's managed to mostly keep bobbi's secret by sheer force of will, it's so much easier to have someone around who already knows the truth. ]
Yeah, that's Bobbi. I'm glad you guys had a chance to talk about all of that. [ bobbi! her gal! ] She's a good person to have on your side.
[ a way better spy than daisy could ever hope to be in about every way that counts. ]
Plus, she kicks my ass on the regular in the ring here, so if you're looking for a sparring partner...
You don't spar? [ He shakes the ice around in his glass, then lifts it to his lips for another sip, his distaste well-disguised. ] I've seen you in action. I'm sure you'd make a great partner too.
[ Not that he's opposed to sparring with Bobbi, but from the little he's had the chance to observe, she and Daisy have unique styles. No harm in sparring with both, if it's an option. ]
[ the laugh that echoes out betrays the tease her statement is meant to be. daisy hasn't typically enjoyed sparring, she's never really enjoyed exercising much at all, but she's learned how to have fun every so often. occasionally. when not being forced to do it. ]
I'll spar with you if you want. But you have to come to dinner after. [ she shrugs a bit, mock-helplessly, and tilts her glass in the direction of her bedroom. ] House rules.
You drive a hard bargain, but I'll accept those terms. [ A part of him really, really doesn't want to accept. He knows there will be other people at dinner because Daisy has made herself a makeshift family here. Steve can't think of anything more terrifying than making more connections; the more people he cares about, the more he has to lose. Again.
But maybe if he keeps pushing himself out of his lonesome little comfort zone, it will start to get easier. He's never been one to let fear keep him down. ]
Can I top you off? [ He reaches for the bottle and tilts the nose of it toward her glass. ]
[ she holds out her glass for a fill. maybe she'll get wild, have it straight. she's feeling a little warm all over, what could it hurt? ]
So are you usually a straight vodka kinda guy? I dunno, I guess I always pictured the stars and stripes as being a whiskey on the rocks thing. Or, huh, shitty Bud Light.
Oh, I am, but I know how hard shitty Bud Light is to come by these days and I'd hate to put you out. [ He's joking, of course, but actually? Bud Light isn't his least favorite. It's about the closest he can get to drinking water while everyone else is drinking beer without actually drinking water while everyone else is drinking beer.
He pours until her glass is about half full, leaving some space for juice if she wants a very strong mixed drink, and tops off his own. ]
I actually got into the habit because of Natasha. I always thought it was a stereotype that Russians took vodka so seriously, but I guess I don't have to tell you how wrong that was.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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[ yes, that's right, sex cacti. if steve is expecting story time, he came to the wrong house. this is a house that thrives on shorthand references to stupid things and a lot of liquor in the cabinetry.
like the bottle of vodka she pulls from an under-counter cabinet, its label a faux russian stylization meant to evoke memories that no one native to this century actually has. doesn't matter, though. the bottle still sells well enough. ]
Do you want something to mix it with? We have... uh. [ wait, what do they have? ] Juice, apparently. Or what I think is some futuristic knock off of Diet Coke.
no subject
[ In lieu of juice or cola, he fishes a donut out of the bag and does not stop to wonder whether it's made with real flour or insects ground into a futuristic flour substitute. The important part is the sugar that will coat his tongue and render the burn of vodka just that much more tolerable. ]
no subject
Suit yourself.
[ she will, at least, bring him back both a shot glass and a rocks glass so he can figure out how he wants to do this. maybe he's a throw it back kind of guy, maybe he wants to nurse it. she doesn't know. she just knows that her drink will be mixed with juice like the american child she is. ]
So. [ she flops into the armchair opposite the couch, legs draping over the side arm like some kind of heathen who doesn't know how to sit properly in furniture. ] Welcome to our bougie crib. Are you getting settled okay, or are you still sleeping in the safehouse?
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(It's about 10% of the reason, because constantly needing to defend your masculinity is a hell of a thing to unlearn. Mostly, he's just used to it by now, and he doesn't see how the bitterness of an orange or cranberry juice is any improvement on the taste of vodka.)
He is tempted to start throwing back drinks right away, but he is, as the kids say, a troll, and he wants to see how long it takes Daisy to realize he isn't even getting tipsy. So long game it is, and he goes for the rocks glass. ]
Are those two things mutually exclusive? [ Translation: no, he hasn't settled in, and yes, he is still sleeping at the safe house, but must she call him out on it? ]
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it shouldn't take too much to connect the dots between super strength and super sober, but once she's had a few drinks in her? who knows. ]
I don't know that you can really calling sleeping in a cot in the safehouse settled. [ by nature of a safehouse being an inherently temporary thing. ] But if it works for you, I mean, I can't really judge.
[ she can. and she does. ]
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He raises his eyebrows as his mouth forms a small, self-deprecating smile. ] You know, your words are saying one thing but your tone is saying the exact opposite.
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[ daisy johnson, sarcastic? she would never, your captainship. ]
If you get sick of it, you're welcome to our couch. Jyn had some guy sleep in her closet for a while so he wouldn't be homeless, I doubt she'd mind.
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Anyway, time to deflect from him because we're very emotionally mature in this house. ] What happened to the closet guy? It seems like there's more of a story there.
no subject
Any time.
[ but sure, she'll play along. she does mean the invitation, even if he's unlikely to take her up on it. one day, though, she's really going to need to investigate why all her closest male friends here are the ones that rock the stoic soldier vibe? (see: illya, jack, now steve...) ]
Marcos? He moved out a few weeks ago, I think? Got an apartment with my old roommate, actually. [ a beat, her attention lifting from the lip of her glass to watch his reaction. ] Katelin Philips?
[ or does he know her as bobbi? have they had that conversation yet? ]
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Do you mean Agent Morse?
[ In another time, another world, the deception might annoy him. But he'll give Agent Morse the benefit of the doubt given how quickly she came clean, and Daisy, to her credit, never seemed interested in secrecy. ]
She told me right after we met. You two worked together at SHIELD?
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Yeah, that's Bobbi. I'm glad you guys had a chance to talk about all of that. [ bobbi! her gal! ] She's a good person to have on your side.
[ a way better spy than daisy could ever hope to be in about every way that counts. ]
Plus, she kicks my ass on the regular in the ring here, so if you're looking for a sparring partner...
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[ Not that he's opposed to sparring with Bobbi, but from the little he's had the chance to observe, she and Daisy have unique styles. No harm in sparring with both, if it's an option. ]
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[ the laugh that echoes out betrays the tease her statement is meant to be. daisy hasn't typically enjoyed sparring, she's never really enjoyed exercising much at all, but she's learned how to have fun every so often. occasionally. when not being forced to do it. ]
I'll spar with you if you want. But you have to come to dinner after. [ she shrugs a bit, mock-helplessly, and tilts her glass in the direction of her bedroom. ] House rules.
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But maybe if he keeps pushing himself out of his lonesome little comfort zone, it will start to get easier. He's never been one to let fear keep him down. ]
Can I top you off? [ He reaches for the bottle and tilts the nose of it toward her glass. ]
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[ she holds out her glass for a fill. maybe she'll get wild, have it straight. she's feeling a little warm all over, what could it hurt? ]
So are you usually a straight vodka kinda guy? I dunno, I guess I always pictured the stars and stripes as being a whiskey on the rocks thing. Or, huh, shitty Bud Light.
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He pours until her glass is about half full, leaving some space for juice if she wants a very strong mixed drink, and tops off his own. ]
I actually got into the habit because of Natasha. I always thought it was a stereotype that Russians took vodka so seriously, but I guess I don't have to tell you how wrong that was.
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He takes everything seriously. Especially chess. I swear, I'm gonna pay somebody one day just to beat him at chess to watch him sulk.