chuju | psl;

[ If the stories about the legendary Peggy Carter are true, then Daisy's pretty sure some of those walls are probably literal. You didn't build one of the top spy agencies in the world without tearing down some walls, after all — especially not as a woman. ]

I'm sure you'll think of one soon enough. You'll just have to get to know me better.

[ She doesn't intend for there to be a hint of flirting in those words but it's there all the same. Rather than clearing her throat in what would be an extremely obvious display of embarrassment, she instead feigns a yawn, hoping he'll take the cue and they'll get on their way to his apartment. She needs to get her bearings before she does or says anything she'll regret later. ]

[ There were definitely some literal walls in the way, and Peggy being who she was brought them all down. ]

Starting right now?

[ If he picks up on that hint of flirting, he doesn't give any sign of it, but there's that telltale flush creeping back up his neck that might or might not give him away.

And he's not really a brilliant profiler, but he's good enough at reading people that he thinks her yawn might not be entirely genuine. Still, he has no problems giving her this one. ]

Or, well, I suppose tomorrow is soon enough. You've had a long day.

[ And he still has to work out how he's going to get her to take the bed, not the couch. Because that's definitely his plan. Or at least, it's the plan he came up with in the last few seconds. ]

[ It has been the longest day. There are maybe a handful in her life that compare, all of which are too tragic to think about in detail. This day, too, she can hardly stand to think about for long because of the what-ifs and uncertainty.

So she nods, agreeing to that statement, and then she really does yawn, which takes her a bit by surprise. The power of suggestion, surely. But she offers an embarrassed smile as she stands and straightens her dress. ]

How far is your apartment from here? [ She wonders if they'll be walking, driving, hailing a cab... She sure won't be quaking her way over. ]

[ That question earns her a sheepish smile. It's not that he's embarrassed to say this, but what would be a typical walk for the average person means waking up with stiff joints the next day for him. ]

It's only a handful of blocks from here, but I thought we'd get a cab, seeing as how you could probably use the break. And I wouldn't really mind one either.

[ He tacks that on because it's true, but also because he doesn't want her thinking he's being patronizing. He knows better than to ever go there, after years of working alongside Peggy. But having said that, he hails a cab, because while this isn't exactly a peak time in which everyone is looking for a lift home, he doesn't want to keep her waiting too long. ]

[ She doesn't protest the idea, especially when he points out that he would benefit from it as well. If he hadn't said that, she would have absolutely forced herself and not complained once — that's just how she is.

When they're in the cab, she's struck once again by how strange everything is. The novelty of time travel and visiting the past has absolutely worn off by now; she struggles to keep the dismay out of her expression with every new 'old thing' she encounters that reminds her yet again she's not in Kansas anymore, which is a lot when she's staring out the window at the city passing by.

By the time the cab comes to a stop, she's a jumbled mess of emotions and anxiety firmly buried under a carefully crafted facade of everything being just fine, thanks. ]

[ Maybe that's partly why he said it. Or maybe it's just that he knows his limits by now, and that walking that distance would be too much. Either way, he knows he doesn't want to have to see her forcing herself, so he just plays it up as him needing the break.

Luckily, it's a short enough ride, but he'd also have to be stupid to not notice some slight tells that she's still a little tense. He can't blame her for that; he would be too if the roles were reversed. So, it's just up to him to try and alleviate some of that tension however he can. Putting on a friendly smile, he clears his throat and says: ]

Looks like we're here. We'll get you settled in and you can finally take a load off.

[ And she's totally getting the bed. No arguments. ]

[ She tries not to think about why she's anxious. She tries not to think about anything, really, but there are a million paths her thoughts take in the short ride. From ways she can leave breadcrumbs for her team to how she'll make a living in the meantime to whether living together unmarried with have a negative impact on Sousa's career. The latter strengthens her resolve to find another living situation as quickly as she can because she can't mess up his life; she has to protect the timeline, but also he really doesn't deserve that.

The cab rolling to a stop isn't what gets her attention — it's Sousa. His words snap her out of it and she stares at him blankly for just a moment before what he's said catches up with her and she nods in response. Climbing out of the cab, she looks up at the building — not what she would call swanky, but also not rundown.

She knows she should say something but suddenly it's just... hard. ]

[ He gets it, that inability to say anything, when her mind is probably reeling trying to process all this. So he's just not going to push, because that would do more harm than good. ]

I know, it's not much. It's definitely not some fancy hotel, but, well-

[ For the first time, he appears a little bit abashed. His place is good enough for him, but it's definitely not what someone like her deserves. She deserves a nicer place than what he has to offer. ]

Uh, if you want, there is a hotel not far from here, if you'd rather stay there. No hard feelings at all. It's nicer than anything I've got, anyway.

[ Part of him thinks he should've thought of that first, because even if there's no judgment on her face directed at the state of the building he lives in, he figures it's not her first choice. ]

[ Someone like her. If she knew he was thinking that... Well, she can't tell him who she really is, can she? He can't possibly know what she deserves and there's no way for her to explain it to him.

What she can do, however, is dispel any notion he has that his place isn't good enough. Because really, so long as it isn't falling apart or full of unwanted guests, it will be just fine. ]

I've never been a fancy hotel kind of girl, Sousa. I've never even been a house or apartment kind of girl. Hell, I lived in my van for two years, so trust me, I'm not going to complain about your place.

[ She doesn't stop to ponder when vans became a thing. If she had, she'd probably have easily realized they were a decade and some change too early for them. Oops. ]

[ Honestly, whatever secrets she's holding, as long as they're not treasonous or threatening to everyone's security, Daniel doesn't really think they're all that important. Not in the sense that they're irrelevant, but just that he thinks she's pretty incredible, just based on the short amount of time that he's known her. And that's not really saying a lot, but he does like to think he's a good judge of character.

But he also likes that she seems to be very down to earth; he's not entirely sure what a van is, exactly, but he can put two and two together. ]

Fair enough. I just don't want you getting in there, looking around, and running for the hills, because it's really not that much.

[ At least he's always been fairly clean and organized, unlike some people he's known. And by people, he means other men. Barring one exception, a proper British butler, they all seem to have been terrible at keeping things in order. ]

Anyway, here we are. [ He walks up the few steps up to the door and pushes it open so she can walk in first. ] Apartment's just down the hall to the right.

[ With the way he's acting, he's lucky she isn't an enemy of the state. Inviting her into his home without even requesting proof of her identity, being so open and cordial... It has to be a product of the times. Unless it really is just pure Daniel Sousa.

She moves through the door and takes a moment to glance back at him before heading on down the hall as he'd instructed. Her steps remain slow, both giving him time to catch up and making sure she ends up in the right place. When he joins her in front of the door, she feels the urgent need to once again express her gratitude. ]

Thank you for this, Agent Sousa. I really just... I can't tell you how much it means to me. [ Literally. ]

[ Well, then it's lucky for him that he doesn't keep sensitive materials here, and that he doesn't have anything of real value, in case she wanted to snoop around and steal one or both. If she is an enemy of the state, or hiding nefarious intentions, she's not going to have much to work with here.

...Unless of course, her plan is to abduct him or something like that, in which case, he's left himself pretty wide open. Still, he can reason that away by asking himself why she'd sit through an entire dinner just to kidnap him later. ]

Oh, you're welcome. I can't very well have you living in your- What was it you called it? Your van?

[ Maybe the plan wouldn't be kidnapping, but rather seducing him into spilling secrets. A Black Widow sort of move rather than traditional kidnapping and torture.

She half-smiles in response, nodding slightly. ] No, I guess not.

[ And there's another thing she can't really get into with him. That she doesn't have a van here. She doesn't have a single thing that she's not wearing at this very moment — he knows she doesn't have things here but he can't know she doesn't have anything period. ]

[ Well, that would be something. His training has taught him well, but he's still just as vulnerable to wiles as anyone. ]

Anyway, bathroom's just over there, and I've got a spare toothbrush for you.

[ He smiles a little bit, because out of everything she might need, a toothbrush is probably not too high up on the list. ]

And, uh- [ He hesitates here, because this is the part that's going to be the hard sell. But he thinks he can skirt around it for a little bit longer. ]

The spare trunk is just in here if you want to put what you do have in there, at least for the night. [ He points in the direction of his room. It's not the most subtle, but it's a lead-in. He'd thought initially about putting her up in his spare room, but it hasn't been used in months, so it's very dusty and not really all that clean.

It seems like a shame to put her in there when there's a better option just waiting for it to be taken. ]

[ A toothbrush is actually quite high on the list. It's one of those little things that are part of your daily routine, that no matter where (or when) you are, it makes you feel a little more like yourself.

That hesitation gets her attention and even as exhausted as she is, she still catches some implied meaning in that last statement. Either she has severely underestimated Daniel Sousa and he's presenting her with a proposition she'd be sorely tempted by, or he's trying to give her his bed. Because she can clearly see through the open doorway that the room is neat but currently in regular use.

She frowns at him in confusion. ] Why would I use that when I'm staying in the spare room?

[ As much as the more adventurous side of him would like a proposition like that, it feels incredibly wrong at the same time, especially since they barely know each other. So, the only thoughts he's having right now are about how he can make her the most comfortable. And clearly the way to do that is by giving her the use of his room.

He smiles a bit sheepishly as he answers. ]

Well, that's the thing, and I hope you don't mind me saying this.

[ After her repeated reminders that she knows her own mind and that he shouldn't presume to think for her or say what she might be feeling, anyway. ]

I think you'll sleep better if you take that room instead.

[ He won't say as much, but it's because his room is more lived in, and it's in better condition than the spare one. ]

[ It's good that he's a gentleman through and through. In her current stressed-out mental state, she might have actually gone for it and made a decision they'd both regret. (Well, she's pretty certain she wouldn't regret the actual act itself, but everything that came about because of it would be a different story.)

Holding up her hand, she's already shaking her head. ] No. No way. I'll take the spare room or the couch or even the floor, but I am not taking your bed from you.

[ He deserves to get a good night's rest just as much as she does, and she refuses to be even more of a burden to him than she already will be just by being here. ]

[ Now it's his turn to shake his head. ] No, you're a guest here, and I'm going to make sure you get everything you need. And that includes the more comfortable room.

[ To forestall any other arguments, he just bustles on ahead into the room, and almost like a hotel maid would, proceeds to turn down the bed covers. ]

It's not really proper, or following any rules, but you don't have any of your things with you, so- [ There's definitely some redness creeping back up his neck, because this surely is not the proper thing to do by anyone's standards. ]

I was thinking you could borrow some of my things to sleep in.

[ Is this scandalous? It sure feels like it is to him. But what choice do they have? What she's wearing doesn't look very comfortable for sleeping. ]

[ Were she in any other emotional and physical condition, she'd be digging her heels in right about now, probably marching into the spare room and firmly insisting it was just fine, regardless of if it was or not. It would the principle of the thing. As it is—

She's so tired. Some part of her wants to just break down crying right there in the middle of his apartment, let out all her stress and anxiety in a good sobbing fit. But she's not that far gone yet... just perhaps far enough to give him this just this once. ]

Okay. [ It's a very eloquent reply she manages, really. ] I mean— That would be nice, thank you.

You're welcome. [ He smiles, and then he's off to gather what he thinks she'll need: one of his shirts, a pair of pajama bottoms, all of them probably too big for her, but it's for sleeping in. It should be fine.

Once he's certain she has everything she needs, including that toothbrush and a new tube of toothpaste, he checks in with her and hands over the things he gathered. Eventually, he leaves, heading for the spare room, ready to call it a night.

Luckily it's a weekend, so he doesn't have to check in at the office the next morning, other than to make a quick phone call just to see if there's anything he needs to be apprised of, and then he heads to the kitchen to see about getting breakfast together.

Usually, he just has to cook for one, but since Daisy's crashing at his place, he decides to try and make it a little more special. He sets to work making eggs and bacon, and pancakes too, in case she's hungry. ]

[ It's weird sleeping in an actual bed in a proper room again. After a year of living on the Zephyr and many years before that on the Bus and various SHIELD bases, she'd forgotten what this could feel like. But as comfortable as the bed is, and as utterly worn out as she is, it still takes hours for Daisy to finally fall into an exhausted sleep.

The bedroom is so silent and still that the sounds from the kitchen trickle in, waking her from a deep sleep that leaves her feeling groggy. For a moment, she forgets what happened the day before, confusion taking hold as she looks around the unfamiliar room&mdash And then it comes crashing back, the memories life a knife in her chest. It's so sudden that she feels tears stinging her eyes and she has to force herself into action so she doesn't lose control of her emotions. Out of the comfortable bed that kind of smells like her handsome host. Run fingers through her hair to try to tame the messy curls that have been a bit flattened by sleeping on them. She debates changing back into her dress but can't find the energy just yet — she really hopes that Sousa has coffee.

So, she wanders out to the kitchen in her borrowed pajamas, hair anything but perfectly styled and bare feet padding along the floor. Not once does she consider whether it's "proper" for the era to be doing this; she's pretty sure they left propriety back at the bar, anyway. ]

Something smells good.

[ It wouldn't be a healthy and balanced breakfast without coffee. Daniel knows he couldn't function as well as he did without the stuff, so there's a full pot of it just waiting to be consumed. He's working on flipping the latest pancake onto the already finished stack of them when he hears footsteps entering the kitchen. ]

Oh, good, you're up. I'm almost finished.

[ He does look positively domestic, what with the almost perfectly scrambled eggs and crispy bacon waiting in their respective pans, and the stack of pancakes that he worked hard to get just right. Truthfully, it does come easily to him, but still, he wanted to make sure everything was as close to perfect as he could get it. ]

Have a seat, I'll get you some coffee, okay?

[ He certainly won't get any arguments from her — coffee is one of Daisy's main food groups, along with whatever junk food was currently stocked on the Zephyr.

Giving the scene a once-over with a slightly stunned expression, she shakes her head in astonishment as she settles into one of the chairs. A bachelor being able to cook like this had to be something that died out in the seventy years between their time periods. The only other man she knew who could cook like this was Coulson, and he'd always seemed to be the exception to every rule. ]

The women of this era really are idiots if they're not looking at someone like you. [ It's half muttered to herself and half to him as she considers again everything he's done for her, everything he's said he would do. How many people in the world would do the same? He's really one of a kind. ]

[ His back is turned to her when she makes that muttered comment, because he's pouring her cup of coffee, but the creeping flush of red up his neck suggests that he heard what she said.

And then he turns around with the mug in his hand, and his cheeks are reddening as well. ]

What, because I can put together a good breakfast? [ He rolls his eyes, but he's smiling too. ]

Most women are looking for something more than just that. And this is a detractor too.

[ He nods at the crutch. Of course he can get around his own place without any trouble, but sometimes, the crutch just gets in the way.

Like right now, for instance. He's moving over to place the mug of coffee on the table, and the crutch catches on the floor, causing him to slip just a little. But he's not about to make a mess right now, not when he's trying to make things as close to perfect as he can, and hey, what's a little drip of coffee anyway?

He tries not to flinch as some hot drops of liquid fall onto his hand. It's silly, but she just gave him the biggest compliment he's received in awhile, and he doesn't want to make her change her mind five seconds after giving it. ]

[ Oh yeah, the breakfast thing must be a whole lot more common in this era. That, or maybe it's just that women are told so often that their place is in the kitchen — which is absolute bullshit, of course. She'd like to see anyone try to tell May that she belonged in a kitchen, the person in question would probably end up with a paring knife between the ribs.

The crutch being any sort of an issue is also complete bullshit. Just the idea that people would look down on him because he'd lost a leg makes her so angry, but add in that he'd lost it fighting for his country and she's beyond livid. A good man like Daniel Sousa deserves so much better than that.

She watches that cup of coffee with great interest, more than ready to inhale that sweet liquid life, so there's no missing the way the cup jerks as he loses his balance the slightest bit. And of course, she notices that flinch; who the hell wouldn't flinch at steaming hot coffee hitting their bare skin? ]

Hey, you okay? [ There's nothing but genuine concern in her voice and expression as she quickly reaches up to take the mug from him, setting it on the table before immediately turning her attention to his hand. She takes it in her own, one hand on his wrist while the other holds his fingers, checking to make sure any burns are just superficial. ]

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