4217/Didn't Expect You Home

Didn't Expect You Home
Date of Scene:	24 November 2020
Location:	Safe House, Brooklyn
Synopsis:	Logan comes back to the safe house to find Peggy already home. They discuss some old times. She does not shoot him for climbing in the window.
Cast of Characters:	Peggy Carter, Logan Howlett

---

Peggy Carter has posed:
When Logan said she could use the safe house as she needed for things she didn't want to track through SHIELD, he might not have expected that it meant she'd practically be using it as a second home. But there's been too many suspicious things happening as of late for her to be comfortable taking any of these files back to SHIELD, so she's practically living here now. That means some more groceries have been brought in, a few knit afghan blankets added to the old couch, a fresh set of sheets on the bed, and a tea pot (of course). It practically looks like a home, not an abandoned crash pad.

Peggy's not expecting him back, so she's as comfortable as she gets. A 1940s styled wrap dress in green and stockings across her frame, her shoes have been abandoned by the door and she's curled up in the corner of the couch with a few files in her lap. There's a pile of them on the coffee table next to her tea mug, but she's going through them in chunks. An old radio very quietly plays the local jazz station. Other than the modern lighting outside, this could be a scene from the 50s as much as it is modern times.

Logan Howlett has posed:
Honestly, Logan isn't expecting Peggy to be here right now.

So, when the window slides up for easy entrance without being seen from the street, the smell of her catches him off-guard. She almost certainly hears the window in the kitchen slide up from her perch in the living room. He pauses, half inside the window. Battered jeans and hiking boots, along with a white t-shirt under a simple red and brown flannel, under a battered brown jacket that likely dates back decades. That's his outfit tonight. Well, it's his outfit most nights, honestly. Or something similar.

His nostrils flare a few times before he finishes sliding into the kitchen. His boots thunk onto the tile, and he calls out to Peggy. He doesn't want to spook her anymore then he likely has, after all.

"Peggy? It's me. Ya decent?"

Peggy Carter has posed:
He's absolutely spooked her. The moment she hears the window opening, her file is placed down and she reaches near silently for the little sliding drawer in the end table next to where she's sitting. It's where her gun lives if she's here and it's not under her shoulder. She's got it in hand and pointed to the ground, already shifting off the couch and low, using the coffee table as a bit of cover as she tries to creep towards the kitchen. And THEN she hears his voice.

"Oh hell... Didn't they ever teach you to use a door in Canada?" Peggy breathes out, automatically unfurling from her crouched position. She doesn't quite put her gun down yet, just in case this is some sort of trick, but it's pointed disciplined at the ground with her finger off the trigger, as she walks barefoot around the corner into the kitchen. "And I'm *always* decent."

Logan Howlett has posed:
"Gonna keep my comment to myself on that one," the man says with a small, teasing smile. He's still Logan, but the man is a bit more comfortable around her then some others. There are still walls, of course, but less. He brushes his fingers back through his chaotic mess of hair and turns to the fridge. "I keep some beer in here. Still there?," he asks. His voice is deep, with a growl to the edge of his words that people tend to find either quite pleasant, or very unnerving.

He sniffs the air to check if they're alone in the safehouse as he leans in to look through the fridge. If beer is present he grabs one, along with whatever food suits his fancy. "As for doors, I didn't feel like getting' spotted coming in through the door. Just in case."

Peggy Carter has posed:
Definitely alone. Though her scent is heavier in the entire place, like she lives and sleeps here as much as she does the Triskelion. There's enough small touches around the kitchen -- not the act of someone really moving in, but the hints of someone living here and the practical things that entails -- that it's probably clear just how much she's occupied the place. Especially as of late. She smiles a bit softer as she sees him, that growl of his voice something she finds comforting after nearly 80 years. "Still there. I wouldn't drink your Canadian swill. There's also some Smithwicks if you want something proper." She winks at him, then turns away to head back to the front room.

She's not long there, just long enough to put the gun away and fold shut the files she was working on. She restores them to the pile on the coffee table before padding back in his direction. "As for the door...I've been using the front. Your neighbors think there is some sweet young...'hipster' woman, I believe is the term, who has moved into this place. Still means it will need burned at some point, but we knew that would happen."

Logan Howlett has posed:
"Most think the same with me. It's the flannel, I think. When I wear my beanie it just cements it. Weirdly easier fitting in then it was awhile back."

He turns to watch her head into the living room, subtely admiring her as she goes. He doesn't 'ogle', but he does find the sight and smell of her similarly comforting. As some memories surface, they remind him of simpler times. Not exactly peaceful ones...but simpler. He at least knew who the bad guys were back then. He cracks open his beer and takes a long sip before he ends up closing the fridge without really snagging anything to eat. Not yet, anyways.

Logan turns back towards her as she reappears, and he takes a long pull of his beer before he releases the Smithwicks he also snagged, sending it in her direction. "Still not comfortable with the other badge types?," he asks, gesturing to a few of her minor personal touches.

Peggy Carter has posed:
If she catches him looking, Peggy makes no hint that she cares, though there might be a just slightly wider smile on her features as she returns to the room and accepts the beer from him. She's got the vaguely pinched, tired look about her of someone who hasn't exactly slept well recently, but is hiding it. There's a few other differences too -- instead of her usual vintage, long waving curls, she's bobbed her hair into a short mop just around her ears. The curls still look nice on her, but it's dramatically different than her usual. There's also the faint line of burn scars (mostly hidden by her hair), along the left side of her face. That might be a reason.

She's moving a bit slow, some fresh bruises and sore ribs from some sort of operation, but she does her best to hide it around him. She's always pushed hard to live up to his strength. "...There's definitely someone in SHIELD making these files disappear...and at least one mission was compromised. Until I figure out who the mole or...Moles are? I trust about the number of people I can count on one hand back there. Steve and Barnes among them."

Logan Howlett has posed:
She likely catches him looking, honestly. He tries to be subtle, but it was never his strong suit. He takes note of every detail of her as he leans back against the countertop in the kitchen. He brings his beer to his lips for another long sip before he responds to her statement about SHIELD with a grunt.

"I like the hair," he says after a bit of an awkward silence. She can probably tell he's noticed her injuries, but has pointedly not mentioned them. "Anyone you need to point me at?," he asks, by way of reminding her that his 'skills' are always at her side if she needs them.

Peggy Carter has posed:
"HYDRA. No surprise. We... did some clean up a few days ago. Got one prisoner. It was messy and absolutely a trap. Someone knew we were coming. If we didn't have Barnes up in a nest, doing what he does best, I doubt we'd have made it out. But May and I can take a few dozen HYDRA agents on our own...we'd just rather not have to." The fact that Peggy is a little hurt and moving just a touch slow? It means that fight was far closer a call than she's even comfortable admitting.

The hair gets a bit deeper a smirk, motioning with her beer towards the side of her face that carries those burn scars. But those wounds look far older. Probably a month or two. Has it been that long since they saw each other? Maybe longer. "...Wrong end of an explosion, but got everyone out. Had to even out the hair after the bomb did some unplanned trimming on one side." She's casual about it all. Almost too casual. Maybe she's worried she's getting slow and trying to play it off.

Maybe she *is* getting slow.

Logan Howlett has posed:
"Ugh," is the main response if gives her when she brings up HYDRA. "You figured they'd learn one day." Logan shakes his head before he reaches out. He catches the end of her short hair between his thumb and forefinger, brushing his fingers there to examine it. It's a rather intimate touch.

"Yeah, it suits you. I could never pull off a bob." The Mutant smirks and brings his beer to his lips for another pull. "If I didn't know you so well I'd suggest working more behind the scenes. You've earned the safer job. But, I know ya too well. You'd die of boredom."

Peggy Carter has posed:
The catch of her hair in his fingertips stops her. It's not that they haven't been close -- hell, closer than most. Everyone she was close to in the war she lost -- except him. There's been a few drunken nights where things almost happened, but the managed to pull back. Now, however, in the oddly domestic setting, she looks up to him and pauses just a moment. She doesn't pull back, but simply gives him a quiet, matte red lipped smile. Anyone but Peg would be blushing by now. But the smile is a start. "I suppose it was time to try something different after, god... 80 years?" She smirks.

Then the moment passes, and she's leaning against the kitchen counter, taking a long drag off her own beer as she considers the prospect of HYDRA in front of her. "... You are correct, but even if I wouldn't... this is my mess. I should have cleaned it up long ago and somehow... Missed things. This is my fault. My responsibility."

Logan Howlett has posed:
"You weren't the only one there, Peggy. You carry enough on your shoulders alone. Don't carry guilt, too." He steps away from the counter and closes the small amount of space between them. He's close to her now, with the counter pressed against her back.

"Anyways, I don't plan to take off again for awhile. So...I'm here if ya need be. Which reminds me, mind if I crash on the couch tonight? Don't feel like making the drive the Westchester tonight."

Peggy Carter has posed:
"No. I wasn't the only one there, but I was the only one who stayed on the whole time. Went to being director. Signed off of that... bloody Operation Paperclip." Peggy rarely swears, and there are certainly worse curse words out there, but to use that one is proof of her pure hate and anger just leaking through the cracks. She's had a lot of time to go over old mistakes and a pile of ancient files to prove the messes.

Then he's moving on subjects and that's probably best for her mood. She still doesn't pull away, but her brows arch at the question. She smirks at him, "You just got back into the city. I'm not going to take your *bed*, Howlett. I'll take the couch or go back to the Trisk if we're being prudish about it all."

Logan Howlett has posed:
He smirks softly at that and shakes his head. He sets the beer aside on the counter behind her. "Spent the last month sleeping on the ground or in shit motels, Peg. I don't mind the couch..."

He trails off, then, and he looks briefly thoughtful. Logan shrugs a muscled shoulder as he turns back towards her. "But the bed here is big enough for two."

Peggy Carter has posed:
A slightly rueful smile crosses her lips, some old memory behind her dark eyes as she looks up to him. "We have slept in far worse. You remember that shack in Korea? Maybe..." She studies his eyes, realizing he honestly might not. It's just a flicker of sorrow there, one of those moments she realizes she still doesn't know quite how broken the man is who stands so close to her. "Maybe not. Maybe it's best that way."

Logan Howlett has posed:
"I don't. But I remember the ruins of that chateau in France after the Germans pulled back. Raiding the cellar for fine wine. Burning broken furniture in that stupidly huge fireplace."

He reaches out and tucks her hair behind her ear on the side with the burns, as if showing he isn't put-off by seeing them. She can feel the immense warmth he gives off due to his mutant metabolism...as well as the roughness of his fingertips.

"I don't remember Korea, though."

Peggy Carter has posed:
"It's alright. Korea was messy and I'm not certain we should have been there but... we helped some good people. That's what matters." There's 80 years of exhaustion behind her eyes, all her own memories still in tact, save for the last thirty-ish years she was on ice. It's a lot to carry. But she seems to be letting down a few guards when he stands that close and dares to bare the new, faintly pink and stretched burns along the side of her face. She's used a bit of make up to soften them, but hasn't tried to hide them entirely. She generally wears her scars.

"Hell, I'd go *back* to that chateau in France. It was almost pleasant in compare to the rest of the mess. So...I'd say we could manage a full sized bed in a quiet, warm apartment. We might even be getting spoiled at this rate."

Logan Howlett has posed:
"Well, we should just make sure not to let it go to our head," he replies with a chuckle. "You know I kept one of those bottles?," he asks after a few moments.

"I knew about it for awhile, stashed in my cabin. I just didn't know why it was importang or where it was from. But it's still there, in Westchester."

The man reaches around her to take his beer back into his hand, and he drains it. He is so close to her now.

"You should come up. Share it with me. You've always been more of a wine drinker, anyways. I wouldn't be able to appreciate it as much."

Peggy Carter has posed:
The commentary about coming to share the wine gets a bit of a surprised look for her. "Really going to let me intrude on your little oasis? I certainly won't say no. And... if the wine is still good, it'll be a miracle. But one we'll find out together." She leans up, pressing a small, still almost chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth. It's as gentle as it is filled with years of nostalgia. And that quite dance of thoughts never quite fullfilled between them.

Then she's pulling away, nodding back towards the front room. "Come on. You can help me go through this last stack, finish our beers, and maybe we'll both get a full night's sleep for once. I know the world might end, but we can try..." With that, she leads him to the more boring side of spy work. But the promise of a warm bed is at the end of it all, and that keeps her smiling.