theclipper_tlv | Welcome Pizza Party!

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Welcome Pizza Party!

WHO: EVERYONE!
WHAT: a welcome party for the new arrivals, with pizza and milkshakes and snacks and candy, dancing games and video games and a big banner that says 'WELCOME!' and music and balloons for everyone!
WHERE: main common room
WHEN: beginning of August
NOTES/WARNINGs: None so far. Party thread!

The main common room has been transformed into party central!!!

There's streamers and balloons and tons of fun and games. Haruka, Luigi, and Duck have made sure that there's a little something for everyone.

There's a food table with all kinds of snacks and candy as well as pizza with every combination of toppings you could ask for.

There's dance games out with their mats on the floor for fun and friendly competitions, and a sign that says there's a scavenger hunt for anyone interested. There's also a bunch of machines, almost like a margarita bar (but of course not!) that offer all kinds of milkshakes and slushies for anyone who'd want one. Fun, happy, upbeat pop music with bubblegum lyrics is playing just loud enough to be fun but not to give anyone a headache.

Haruka had made sure that the kitchen staff knew they wouldn't need to make dinner tonight, and they were using all paper cups and plates so no clean up! Everyone could have fun tonight!

"We just wanted to welcome you all to the Clipper! So enjoy the snacks, and have fun!"

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B's go under the bed, and he looks up at Steve and smiles, kind of soft. He can see that tension in his shoulders, poor guy. This, at least, B thinks he can handle for him. "Put on the Glenn Miller one. Pick something slow to start with, yeah?"

The tension does ebb a little at that. Steve is absolutely better off with something to do. "You got it," he says, digging through the stack until he finds the right one, popping it in and skipping a few tracks until he gets to Moonlight Serenade.

After that, though, he turns around, shuffling to the center of the room and holding up his arms. "C'mon, Fred Astaire. Get up here and lead."

He figures he can take B's hand with one of his own, and wrap his other arm around B's waist, though he's open to being moved around if B has other ideas.

"Now that brings back memories." The first song Steve ever tried to play for him. He can only think, now, that it was the strength of the unfamiliar emotion that made him try to smash it the first time he heard this song again, because he still fucking loves Miller.

B considers for half a second, then grins and instead slides his hand up behind Steve's neck. "Starting easy," he promises warmly. "Just sway with me, Steve." He'll pull him into something more complicated in a minute, but this song is romantic and he's gonna just sway a little with his guy.

Steve grins a little sheepishly. Yeah, he remembers, too, but it seems like his luck might just be a little better this time around. Which is good - he likes Miller, too. He likes this song.

His arms drop to slide around B's waist, then, as he leans closer and yes, he is definitely capable of swaying. "This's nice," he agrees. And easy. And it lets him be basically zero inches from B, which is extra nice. "Let's work up up to tossing me across the room."

"Eh. Might not even get that far. This is pretty good, just as it is." B rests his forehead against Steve's, shuts his eyes a moment. He's pretty sure he'll bounce Steve into something more upbeat, when the song changes, but he'll think about that later. Right now he's got his guy close and comfortable, and no dogs or cats are currently underfoot. That's all anybody could ask for, right?

"Oh, Whew. Lucky me." Despite how it's a joke, it's kind of not, too. Being thrown around the room has nothing on this, even if he'd actually let B do it, too.

This is pretty good.

He doesn't exactly lead, but he does sort of try to at least show he's into it by nudging B this way or that, when it seems appropriate. Mostly just circling in place - just to prove they're dancing.

It's enough. It's a moment of calm, even peace, in the midst of where they are. B's happy to take it, just sway in circles to an old favorite with his best guy. "Can't believe you avoided this for so long," he says, maybe quietly teasing a bit. "You're doing fine."

"This is barely dancing," Steve points out, not because he's trying to push said luck, but because yeah, sure. He can do this just fine.

His smile does turn more rueful, and his voice is maybe a little too light when he ducks his head and admits, "You probably wouldn't really like the explanation."

It's not a complete brush-off, honestly. He just really doesn't think B will like the answer, even though it had, funny enough, been on his mind just a few minutes ago.

Edited 2022-09-25 23:06 (UTC)

B leans his head back again so he can look at Steve, tilting it a little. "Try me?" he offers. "Promise I won't get mad or anything. Unless you just don't wanna get into it."

Steve sighs, but, "No, I know you won't get mad."

It's just that the mood was pretty good. He doesn't want to sour it. But he feels it's pretty unfair to say something cryptic like you won't like it and not follow through.

"I was just thinking... I used to spend a lot of time watching... y'know. Him. Dancing," he says. Every single double date, pretty much, unless Steve begged off early (after his own date had done the same). "I don't think I was jealous, exactly?" Not in any straightforward way, anyway. "It just seemed like something that wasn't for me."

Which is, maybe, a metaphor for a lot of things.

Well, he's not wrong. B doesn't really like hearing that. But mostly because it makes him feel... sad. For Steve. He knows Steve hadn't ever really been into those dates... but it'd been important that he be there. Or it'd seemed like it, at the time. It's not like they could have had this, back then. Not really. Neither of them were ready, and the world would've smashed them down so hard they might never have gotten up again.

And there's a little part of him that wonders just how far Steve has separated him from all the other Buckies, if that shared history is still a "him" and not a "you". Or if that's Steve still honoring his wish to not be the same guy he used to be, even for the parts that are still the same. It's something to chew on, but probably not important. Especially not in this moment.

He rubs his thumb up through Steve's hair, back and forth. "Well," is what he says, voice soft, "turns out you were wrong. How about that."

Honestly, this is Steve trying to respect B's wishes and keep them separate as best he can. He knows that everything up until a certain point seems the same, but it had meant so much to B to be different, and it has honestly meant a lot to Steve, too, to try to make sure he knows that when they're close like this, he's not thinking about Bucky, he's thinking about B.

Except, admittedly, he sort of is right now. He can't help it, any more than he can help the way his steps falter and he's already close, so it's not like he can throw himself at B, but he definitely gives the impression that he would if he could, leaning against him and suddenly clinging tight. Maybe it's a good thing his strength is gone, or some ribs might creak. "Yeah, but for how long," he mumbles, throat feeling tight. Bucky had disappeared a month, to the day, after their wedding. He'd come back, sure... though he hadn't remembered getting married for weeks. And when he'd gone, again, a year later, he'd never come back.

Steve is painfully aware that his time with good things seems measured. And it's been a month. Just a month. He's so tired of it. He just wants this. "I wanna be wrong forever."

Aw, hell, that was supposed to be reassuring... B curls his arm more firmly around Steve's neck, dropping Steve's head onto his shoulder, the best hug he can manage without letting him go. "Steve," he starts, then stops to put his words in better order.

No, he can't promise he won't disappear, but... "I'm gonna do my best to never leave you again. Okay? I'm gonna. Have so many friends and connections, and I'm gonna keep busy. So there's as little risk as possible. Okay?" Because that's what he's determined is the highest risk factor for people disappearing: lack of connection, and lack of engagement. He's seen it over and over again. Maybe there's exceptions, but not a ton.

It was reassuring, really; it's just that Steve is afraid to let himself be too reassured, too sure, because that's when things really hurt. When you think you'll have them forever. When you let yourself start to think you will. And then they disappear.

"No, I - I know," he mumbles into B's shirt, still holding on tight, knowing he's ruined the moment but it's like he can't breathe, he can't stop holding on. "I know, it's not you. It's not you."

He doesn't want B to think it's on him, to stay, when whatever tears people away seems to be something that has to do with Steve and his lousy luck. Bad karma. Damaged soul. He doesn't know.

"I know I always said I didn't want you on the Barge," he manages to say, throat feeling far too tight. "But I did. I do. I want you around. I want this with you."

And now they're not on the Barge. And B hates it. And Steve hates it because B hates it; much less so for himself.

"I know. I know." Even back then, he didn't actually believe Steve wanted him to leave. He'd just felt trapped and afraid and it made him angry. B's been there. "I do, too. We're gonna make it happen. We're gonna make it work."

Nine years away hadn't been enough to keep them from finding each other. A year of torture hadn't been enough. Two years in Steve's world with his own Bucky. Seventy years of ice and murders. They're on the same ship, when they could have been split up and never seen each other again.

"Maybe it ain't the way you thought it'd be," he says, resting his cheek against Steve's hair. "But we're still here. You'n me. And I think we're gonna stay that way."

Steve had maybe wanted him not there, had wanted him someplace better, but he hadn't wanted him to leave. There was a part of him that, deep down, that he'd tried to squash, hard, that hadn't wanted to be alone anymore.

But choosing to be alone is easier than being forced into it. Maybe he had been taking the easy way out all along, after all.

He's still clinging to B, and it's no less desperate, but he's leaning into him, too, into his solidity because it is comforting. "I want this," he repeats, because it's all he has. He can't make them stay together, he can't do anything. But he can want this. B wants this, too. "I don't care what way it is. I really don't." He'd never really planned. Plans are useless in places like this. There was no way he'd been envisioning. So he can't be disappointed.

He lets out a wet laugh and says, "I promise I'm not just trying to get outta dancing. It was nice. It is nice." The music's still playing, though the song has changed. It's still slow, though.

"It's okay. I'll make you dance a little later," B promises, not quite joking, more a soothing reminder of reality. There's going to be a later, and there's plenty of time to make Steve trip over his own two feet and fall on his ass. He stroke's Steve's hair a little, as much as he can without moving the rest of his arm, with still trying to hold him tight. "Right now I think hanging onto you is more important."

Steve just makes a quiet noise and doesn't move; he knows he should pull himself together, and he will. He's okay. He's fine.

(He's much more okay, though, with B close.) "Not gonna argue. Just this once." He smiles a little against B's neck and just presses close, making sure his own arms are locked around him still, because that's important, too. Hanging onto B, if B's willing to hang onto him.

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Welcome Pizza Party!

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maybe wrap here (or start wrapping)?