Proper American Lessons

July 12, 2015:

Steve comes over to Peggy's place for dinner

New York City


NPCs: None.



Mood Music: None.

Fade In…

Steve was tasked with bringing the food and the drink and so he's got a brown paper sack and a six pack of beer. Perhaps maybe it's better next time for Peg to do the picking, but it's his second day off in a row from SHIELD and he's going to celebrate it a bit by living a little. And by living a little, he means having a greasy burger and a beer.

After being run in, he takes the elevator to her place, double checks the number, and gives her door a knock before taking a look behind him down the hall. Call it post-war habit.

The hall is empty, but Peggy is very prompt about opening the door when Steve knocks on the door. She was expecting him and she's not the type to make people wait unnecessarily. Her apartment is rather big for Manhattan and decorated in more of a '50s style than a '40s one. It's not exactly her design tastes, but if she gets some free time she can redecorate. The point is that she has a place of her own. It's neatly cared for, coats hanging by the door and very clean. Either she doesn't spend much time here or she's meticulous: either is a likely.

Seeing Steve with a bag and a six pack of beer brings a fond smile to her face, though it's a bit more wan than usual. "I see you've brought food," she tells him, her tone slightly teasing. "Or, I believe that's what that is. What is it?"

"It's hamburger. I'm trying to teach you what it's like to be an American," Steve says as he sets the food up on the counter and begins to shrug out of his bomber jacket. White t-shirt and jeans, of course. It's his normal go to outfit.

He whistles low as he looks over the place and puts his hands on his hips, "SHIELD must be paying you more than they're paying me."

Peggy smirks and lets Steve in before shutting the door. "I've lived in this country for long enough to know what a hamburger is," she tells him. "Though, you realize we have them in England as well?" With a shake of her head, she moves into the kitchen to take his jacket from him and hang that up. "I thought part of my charm was my British attitudes."

As for her place, she looks down a bit. She knows how nice of a place it is and she's a little bit embarrassed to be showing it off to Steve, though she is proud of it. "Howard helped with buying it," she tells him. "Though, it's now all in my name and I'm paying for its costs. So, I'm sure my salary is just as low as yours is. It's nice to have a place of my own, though."

"Yeah," Steve says absently. "Your own." Of course Howard helped her with it. Steve takes an inward breath, lets it out, and lets it be. "Are those what you guys call hamburgers? Peg, come on, you haven't had a real hamburger until you've had a greasy Uncle Al's special." Beat. "I'm not sure what makes it special, but I'm sure you'll agree."

Peggy raises an eyebrow at Steve and his manner. "Yes, it's nice to worry about ordinary things like a water bill and electricity. Coming here and having nothing to my name reminded me of what it was after the War. I shared a one room apartment with a lovely woman named Colleen. There was only one bed, but we worked opposite shifts, so it was never an issue."

With a bit of a sigh at the memory, she moves back toward the kitchen and looks at the hamburgers he brought. "My attitude is not normally called a hamburger, no," she smiles. "I don't tend to take being drenched in ketchup as well as a hamburger does." Pulling out plates, she sets them on the counter nearby. "Though, you're correct, I've never had Uncle Al's."

Steve waltzes over toward the kitchen and smiles at her, "I was talking about the hamburgers in England. Not your attitude." He chuckles a bit more, but it's forced. "So, Howard gave you money for this place?"

There's a grin at his response about the hamburgers, perhaps Peggy was being purposefully obtuse about his meaning to make the joke. She's a smart woman, it's likely. "Well, we Brits tend to over cook and over boil things, so it's likely our hamburgers are not up to your own standards. I'm eager to be taught the ways of the proper American Hamburger."

The place, as it is mentioned, is glanced about and nodded at. "He bought it, then I bought it from him and now pay all the taxes and utilities on it. I believe he feels guilty that Mr. Jarvis and I came here without a cent, as it all belongs to the older versions of ourselves. Mr. Jarvis has no qualms staying with Howard, but I was looking for my own space." At that, she shrugs.

"I see." Something about that doesn't sit well with Steve. Is it just another one of her strings towards her relationship with Howard? Or is that he always thought she was above that sort of thing? But it's her life, so he tries to push out a happy face and tears into the bag. "You like fries, right? But you guys call them chips or something?"

"Yes, we call them chips to go with our fish. And I do like them." The stereotypical British fare. "Perhaps next time I'll find a good fry up place. If I'm learning the proper American ways, you should learn something of the British. Though, I promise that it won't include cricket." Peggy's not even really a fan of it herself. She moves the plates over so they can start laying out food on them.

Steve chuckles and looks up at her, "I was joking about the cricket. It's not that bad—I think. I just had to defend the US of A. At least I think it's not that bad. To be honest, I don't understand the rules. At all." He grabs the bag and begins to divvy up the large amount of fries with each of the burgers. "I know there are 3 sticks…"

"It's mostly because I don't like it myself. I know there are those who do, but whenever my parents attempted to take me to a cricket game, I was infinitely bored. I'd rather have run about myself." It's no surprise that Peggy was a tomboy growing up. "Though, the rules are actually quite simple, I think the issue tends to be that Americans try to equate it with baseball. It's concept is similar, but everything else about it is different."

Cap grins, "Well, I like the sweaters they were, and the cool pads on their legs anyways. He reaches for one of the beers and opens it for her, sliding it along the counter top. "I have the same problem with soccer and football when watching rugby."

"Rugby and football are sports that I can get behind. I find them more entertaining than American football and cricket combined." The sweaters are given a bit of a smirk. The slid beer travels down the counter perfectly into her hand. She wraps a hand around it, but doesn't drink it just yet. "Yes. The sweaters are nice, though I find them too bulky for my tastes." Waiting for Steve to get a beer for herself, she grabs a plate and starts to move for the kitchen table. "Shall we?"

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