"Oh, you're gonna move me, huh?" He says, crossing his feet. It's not that he doubts her strength, she doesn't seem like the kind of person to oversell herself like that. But he is determined to get her to see dense and sleep in the bed.
And he's pretty sure it doesn't seem worth the trouble to try to move his enormous body.
She knows that tone all too well. It's one she heard all the time growing up, and even though she likes Eskel and knows that he doesn't mean anything by it, it also ignites that same coal of anger and need to prove herself in her chest that she's never been able to extinguish.
"Okay," she says, and steps over his body so she can stand at his side, his body between her and the bed. Dropping to her knees, she moves just that much faster than a normal person might, shoving one arm under his legs and the other under his shoulders, getting a grip on his shirt because he isn't being accommodating and shifting into her arms so she can cradle him comfortably.
With a low grunt and a quick yank, she hoists him up into her arms, using the momentum of her hauling his bulky frame off the floor to help send her rocking back up onto her heels. It's not exactly effortless, but she doesn't stagger and drop him either, and it's only a few small steps between where she's standing to the edge of the bed, where she can toss him onto the mattress to land with a satisfying whump.
"And stay there," she says, dusting off her hands.
He doesn't even have time to make an undignified noise of shock, but he does cuss with the breath the landing punches from his chest. He rolls over onto his side and stares at her. They'd talked about her strength previously but he hadn't quite envisioned being on the receiving end of it. Then he frowns at her, his eyes burning in the firelight.
"Bullshit." He laughs, rolling back onto the pillow for a moment.
"I could come over there and put you back over here. Just for the record." He declares, even if the temptation to just fall asleep right here and let her learn her lesson about choosing to sleep on the floor is almost appealing.
He's very glad he's not looking at her straight on, because it makes it easier to cover his flush with a rough laugh.
"Don't think the landlord would like that much." He says. "Have it your wat then, but don't be bitchin' about it come mornin'." As if that will make the stubborn woman change her mind.
He can avoid her gaze as much as he likes, she still knows she's won and it makes her unbearably smug.
She takes her time with combing out her hair, working through every tangle her fingers encounter, drawing them through the long golden strands and carefully collecting any loose ones that fall free so she doesn't leave a mess.
"A few years after I got the serum," she starts to explain, not really knowing why she feels compelled to share this but knowing Eskel probably won't find it that weird, "I crashed a plane into the Arctic. A plane is, um, a large aircraft that can fly but needs to be piloted by a human being. It was full of bombs, giant explosives that were set to destroy my hometown, one of the largest cities in the country. It would have killed millions of people, devastated our economy, ensured our country's defeat in the war. So I took hold of the controls and I put the whole craft down in the open ocean. We crashed, but the water was so cold that the bombs never exploded. So cold, actually, that the whole plane simply froze over, me and the bombs and all.
"I spent seventy-odd years in that ice, frozen, the serum keeping me from dying. Once they found me, once they chipped me free and thawed me out, I couldn't sleep on a bed for months. They got real fancy mattresses where I'm from, soft like you're sleeping on a cloud."
She shakes her head, a small smile twisting her lips that isn't that cheerful at all. "I preferred the floor."
He's rolled onto his side by the time she's finished, listening to her curiously. He might not be able to follow her narrative as clearly as someone who knows what all those words mean, but the concept of being frozen, of a kind of unnatural suspension for long periods, are all things known to him.
"That was...really good of you." He says, which sounds less impressed than he means it to, he's actually awestruck by that kind of sacrifice. "To be willing to give it all up like that. I'm sorry being frozen kinda sucked, I've heard it's uncomfortable."
She shrugs, still fiddling with her hair, and looks into the fire.
"It had to be done." It wasn't like she had anything else to live for, anyway. All her family was dead, Schmidt was defeated, the war was basically over, and she'd let Bucky fall from that train to an icy grave below. The decision to sacrifice herself was an easy one to make.
She's grateful, now, that it didn't work. Her life on this side has been good. She's made good friends, done good deeds, eaten good food, et cetera. Bucky turned out to be alive after all, and they were able to reunite.
She's still sometimes struck by a kind of wistfulness for the peace of the ice, though.
"I don't really remember most of it. Just the quiet. And the cold." She shivers hard even though she's only feet away from crackling flames. "I don't like being cold."
"Well I've got some bad news for you." He jokes, wanting to lighten the mood. "We'll have to get you a jacket or a cloak or something, it's pretty damn cold where we're going." Though "solid ice" season is still at least a month off yet, and he hopes to have her on her way by then.
"Ugh," she wrinkles her nose, laughing a little. "Just my luck."
Still. She's well aware of how lucky actually is, having found herself washed up on the shores of Eskel's apparently boundless charity. This entire endeavor could have wound up much, much worse.
It's not boundless, if she had asked for a fine but useless dress or demanded her own horse or fussed and whined her way through the woods, she would eventually have found the edge of his patience. But as it is, he's only been frustrated with her attempts to deflect any of his efforts to get her to rest and get comfortable in the world she's found herself.
"Yeah, sorry, you probably won't be surprised to know that the organization that turns boys into monsters didn't exactly prioritize comfort or luxuries."
If she were the type of person to ask for a fine but useless dress or fussed and whined about a little hiking, she probably wouldn't be in this conundrum in the first place.
She does have a secret fondness for pretty dresses, though, and hiking gets boring and sweaty after a while. But she's not going to complain about it when there's nothing that can be done to rectify the problem.
His comment has her grimacing a little. "I'm sure it can't be worse than some of the tenements I've lived in before."
"Guess you'll find out." He says. "And it's not all bad. I mean, it's a dump, but it's home, you know?" He says, somewhat fondly. Then: "This is your last chance to come to your senses and take the bed 'cause I'm gonna pass out if you don't."
She rolls her eyes at him. "Unless you want me to come up there and try to squeeze in next to you, no."
Lifting him wasn't the most strenuous thing she's ever done, and she's fully recovered from what strain it was, but she didn't do it for shits and giggles. She was proving a point. She's going to sleep on the floor, and he can enjoy a proper mattress and a fully belly.
"Alright, darlin', you had your chance." He laughs, sitting up to shrug out of his vest and shirt before flopping back onto the lumpy pillow, sprawling as if he's savoring even this narrow mattress.
A few moments later, Steph will discover that her companion snores like a grizzly bear when he's fully asleep.
This is certainly not the first time she's seen Eskel shirtless, although this time her vision isn't clouded by that strange soft-focus haze that the spring gave everything. He's heavily scarred, yes, but that's clearly not an issue for her after the life she's lived and the fact that they've spent a whole day in each other's company, so all the dying firelight does is illuminate him beautifully and give her the opportunity to admire the figure he cuts as he gets himself comfortable and drops off to sleep.
Giving in to the urge to poke the fire a little, she gives herself a minute or two to absorb the realities of her current situation, stretches a little to make her back crack again, and then lies herself down and drifts off to the rhythmic sound of Eskel snoring a few feet away.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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And he's pretty sure it doesn't seem worth the trouble to try to move his enormous body.
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"Okay," she says, and steps over his body so she can stand at his side, his body between her and the bed. Dropping to her knees, she moves just that much faster than a normal person might, shoving one arm under his legs and the other under his shoulders, getting a grip on his shirt because he isn't being accommodating and shifting into her arms so she can cradle him comfortably.
With a low grunt and a quick yank, she hoists him up into her arms, using the momentum of her hauling his bulky frame off the floor to help send her rocking back up onto her heels. It's not exactly effortless, but she doesn't stagger and drop him either, and it's only a few small steps between where she's standing to the edge of the bed, where she can toss him onto the mattress to land with a satisfying whump.
"And stay there," she says, dusting off her hands.
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"So you insist, huh?"
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"I just love your bedroll so much," she quips, dry. "I couldn't bear the thought of not sleeping on it again tonight."
Satisfied she's made her point, she steps back to sit cross-legged in the center of said bedroll and starts to finger-comb through her hair.
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"I could come over there and put you back over here. Just for the record." He declares, even if the temptation to just fall asleep right here and let her learn her lesson about choosing to sleep on the floor is almost appealing.
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"Baby, if you wanted to wrestle, all you had to do is say so."
They'd definitely get kicked out for destroying the furniture, but it would be kinda fun, though.
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"Don't think the landlord would like that much." He says. "Have it your wat then, but don't be bitchin' about it come mornin'." As if that will make the stubborn woman change her mind.
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She takes her time with combing out her hair, working through every tangle her fingers encounter, drawing them through the long golden strands and carefully collecting any loose ones that fall free so she doesn't leave a mess.
"A few years after I got the serum," she starts to explain, not really knowing why she feels compelled to share this but knowing Eskel probably won't find it that weird, "I crashed a plane into the Arctic. A plane is, um, a large aircraft that can fly but needs to be piloted by a human being. It was full of bombs, giant explosives that were set to destroy my hometown, one of the largest cities in the country. It would have killed millions of people, devastated our economy, ensured our country's defeat in the war. So I took hold of the controls and I put the whole craft down in the open ocean. We crashed, but the water was so cold that the bombs never exploded. So cold, actually, that the whole plane simply froze over, me and the bombs and all.
"I spent seventy-odd years in that ice, frozen, the serum keeping me from dying. Once they found me, once they chipped me free and thawed me out, I couldn't sleep on a bed for months. They got real fancy mattresses where I'm from, soft like you're sleeping on a cloud."
She shakes her head, a small smile twisting her lips that isn't that cheerful at all. "I preferred the floor."
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"That was...really good of you." He says, which sounds less impressed than he means it to, he's actually awestruck by that kind of sacrifice. "To be willing to give it all up like that. I'm sorry being frozen kinda sucked, I've heard it's uncomfortable."
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"It had to be done." It wasn't like she had anything else to live for, anyway. All her family was dead, Schmidt was defeated, the war was basically over, and she'd let Bucky fall from that train to an icy grave below. The decision to sacrifice herself was an easy one to make.
She's grateful, now, that it didn't work. Her life on this side has been good. She's made good friends, done good deeds, eaten good food, et cetera. Bucky turned out to be alive after all, and they were able to reunite.
She's still sometimes struck by a kind of wistfulness for the peace of the ice, though.
"I don't really remember most of it. Just the quiet. And the cold." She shivers hard even though she's only feet away from crackling flames. "I don't like being cold."
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Still. She's well aware of how lucky actually is, having found herself washed up on the shores of Eskel's apparently boundless charity. This entire endeavor could have wound up much, much worse.
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"Yeah, sorry, you probably won't be surprised to know that the organization that turns boys into monsters didn't exactly prioritize comfort or luxuries."
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She does have a secret fondness for pretty dresses, though, and hiking gets boring and sweaty after a while. But she's not going to complain about it when there's nothing that can be done to rectify the problem.
His comment has her grimacing a little. "I'm sure it can't be worse than some of the tenements I've lived in before."
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Lifting him wasn't the most strenuous thing she's ever done, and she's fully recovered from what strain it was, but she didn't do it for shits and giggles. She was proving a point. She's going to sleep on the floor, and he can enjoy a proper mattress and a fully belly.
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A few moments later, Steph will discover that her companion snores like a grizzly bear when he's fully asleep.
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Giving in to the urge to poke the fire a little, she gives herself a minute or two to absorb the realities of her current situation, stretches a little to make her back crack again, and then lies herself down and drifts off to the rhythmic sound of Eskel snoring a few feet away.