cuddlecity | ( open ) ❤ ❝ you're a fine girl ❞

Entry tags:

( open ) ❤ ❝ you're a fine girl ❞

CHARACTERS: kimberly hart & you!
LOCATIONS: all around the city!
WARNINGS: n/a. will warn in subject line.
SUMMARY: a variety of open starters for your enjoyment.

↪ crunches

( nearly every afternoon, just like clockwork, kimberly finds herself strolling into the well-lit lobby of crunches.

a few days a week, as the schedule allows, she can be found preparing for her zumba class. warm ups are done against the ballet barres, stretching like any good athlete should, blaring music through the room's speaker system. if she's alone (or in good company), kimberly dances to the beat, aimless enthusiasm expressed in spins and high-kicks and sways of her hips side to side. there's no real talent or trade, just boundless energy worked out to upbeat pop and r&b. occasionally, though, beats of late 2000s throwbacks will catch her attention; don't be surprised if you catch her singing along. feel free to watch, or maybe attend a class. just be prepared to work up a sweat.

if there's no class scheduled, kimberly can be found on a few different machines on the gym floor. the elliptical is her favorite, though the erg ("rowing machine, ergometer, erging") helps her build upper-body endurance. if she's feeling particularly masochistic, the lat pulldown does the trick. challenge her to a race, critique her form, whatever floats your boat.

when all is said and done, after a well-deserved shower, kimberly will happily treat herself to a post-work-out beverage. some days, it's pseudo-healthy smoothies (there's fruit in it!) from the juice bar ... and sometimes, it's just a giant cup of caffeine and sugar from deja brew. don't shame her. calories don't count after workouts, right? )

↪ blue spring pool

( what does a teenage girl do on her days off, when her friends are busy and her workouts are done? lounging at home isn't the answer — she can do that any time, and the warm weather isn't going to last forever; instead, kimberly can be found sprawled out on the grassy shores next to blue spring pool, a towel spread out underneath her swimsuit-clad frame as she soaks up the warmth of the sun. she's got to keep up her tan, you know?

while she often has headphones in, nodding and, okay, occasionally humming (or maybe singing) along to a particularly good beat, feel free to come snag a spot nearby. there's plenty of spots in the sun to lay out, and with the big trees, there's plenty of shade too for those that want it. feel free to ask what she's listening to, or just strike up a conversation.

when the sun beats down long enough and sweat starts to pool on the nape of her neck, kimberly will abandon her towel for a dip in the chilly spring water. it's seventy degrees year round, bordering on too cold, but it's refreshing after hours in the sun. come join her for a splash, or maybe just admire the view. )

↪ the deviant

( for all that clary ribs her about having a busy schedule, kimberly does have free evenings every so often, ones where she doesn't want to necessarily plan around another person or cater to anybody else's interests. on those evenings, she heads into the west side of the city, riding the trolley until it drops off just outside of a busy nightclub. she's sure there must be others, but the deviant's thumping bass had lured her in.

the music inside is loud and fast, upbeat dance-worthy hits and forgotten gems spun out by a dj on a second-story balcony; it's just right for sidling up to someone a little too closely at the bar, an excuse to linger with a grin and a pending drink order until someone catches the bartender for her. come buy her a drink, or maybe question her order or order her something else entirely. she won't complain. (much.)

and while the bar certainly offers its allure, the majority of her evening is spent on the dance floor itself, bass thumping in her chest as she lets her body move to the music. there's no planned steps here, no trained movements, just a natural rhythm. sometimes, she dances by herself, just lets the music guide her; sometimes, she reaches out, finds the first willing partner, lets them lead the way. come dance with her, or maybe just watch. just don't try to drag her off the floor before she's ready. )

↪ wildcard, etc.

( want something special? feel like dropping a starter for me? go for it, kids. feel free to hit me up via semicolons / supergirl#2740 / pm if you feel so inclined. )

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[ No one ever taught Steve the save space for Jesus rule. They certainly weren't spelling it out in dance halls. He knows for damn sure he saw Bucky cheek to cheek with more than a few women during the right song. But spending all his time on the sidelines didn't give Steve the practice with rhythm and movement. But these days he does tend to pick things up a little faster. Which is mostly the serum at work. Retaining information in large quantities becomes less of an issue. So, if Kimberly does choose to instruct him on the right movements she might find herself a very fine teacher.

Which she does. He shouldn't have thought otherwise. She's never seemed to back down from anything since he met her. She pulls him into her space and suddenly they're a lot closer. Not a bad thing. Just a sudden surprise. She's got a damn good grip too. He would comment on that, but there are more important things at hand right now. Specifically the way her voice seems to float past all the music and seep into him. His brows go up when she announces that normally he'd be behind her, but she seems to be starting him off easy. He's a little grateful.

He has so it's not difficult for him to grasp. Her gentle nudges are nice and they help Steve find the real rhythm in the song. The way their bodies are supposed to sway and move. It takes all of four minutes for Steve to start moving with her without the aid of her gentle nudges. ]

You're really a good teacher, Kimberly.

( he's not a bad dancer. granted, the middle of a nightclub isn't exactly the place to judge technique, but kimberly's not looking for anything complicated. just the warmth of his body against her own, the complementary movement of his hips and hands as they move to the rhythm; it's about space, giving and taking, and he's excellent at that. dancing like this isn't technical, it's all instinct — and steve's instincts are, as far as she can tell, right on the money.

he tells her she's a good teacher, and she can't help the smile that curves across her mouth. the hands splayed out against the nape of his neck give way to fingertips that brush into his hairline, a calm, gentle motion set to the drumbeat in her ears. ) You're not so bad yourself, you know.

( normally, she'd encourage him to shift, to spin her around, let himself relax into a more possessive stance, but there's something oddly reassuring about the way he holds onto her. wanting without demanding, sturdy and sure; she might just like it enough to stay like this a little bit longer. )

But I didn't think this was your kind of scene...

[ Not a bad dancer or he's just good at following instructions? He is a soldier after all. He technically has refused a few orders in his time, but this is easy. This is fluid. It's not about the right partner. Not like the dancing that Steve had grown used to back in his time. A lot closer. The rhythm a little faster. Not impossible to follow. He's not sure if this song even has any words, but it wouldn't be the first. He hasn't had a lot of time to grow used to the modern music since the defrosting. It's been one catastrophe after another until DC. Then he threw himself into missions. Workaholic.

He smiles and gives a gentle shake of his head. Not too much movement. He doesn't want to jostle her or break that hold. The way she's touching him. It's nice. Sends a warmth down into his gut that does feel a bit like being drunk. Something else though. ] Should see me without an instruction. I'd be all over this floor. [ Not entirely true. Who knows how he'd be. But he's happy she's here. She's good at guiding him and leaving him to also find the beat on his own. ]

I drink. I know how to have fun.

[ He's leaving out the part where Natasha lured him here and then didn't actually show up. Forcing Steve to get out there and have some sort of fun. He should have called Bucky and had him come. ]

Plus maybe I was just looking for you.

( she's a little charmed by the admission. the words wouldn't normally affect her — a lazy flirtation, said without any meaning behind it; oh, you're just the girl i was looking for when any girl in the club would do to scratch that particular itch — but there's something about the way he says it that seems at least a little sincere.

not stalker sincere, she doesn't think, but genuine. like he'd been happy to spot her specifically, amongst all the others. it makes the smile tug at her cheeks, a little flushed color blooming across them as she peers up at him, as they sway to the rhythm. )

Yeah? I'm normally pretty easy to find, you know.

( she does basically live at the gym in the afternoons, and her pink scooter is fairly hard to miss as she zips around town. not to mention the barbie house in all its glory. plus... there's that whole nifty invention of phones. )

You could have just called if you were lonely.

[ He promises he was not stalking you, Kimberly. Not unless he thought you were in serious danger. Then he would definitely invest in a baseball cap and sunglasses and get to following. But tonight he was just here cause he was lured in by Natasha. Natasha and her lies about having a drink. Who clearly does not realize that Steve is perfectly okay with finding his own dates. But luckily he's been rescued by Kimberly. His hero. ]

Are you? Well, next time I'll just try to memorize your routine a little better.

[ It's a joke. Clearly. Besides it's not like he's seen her cool pink scooter. Though he knows if he did see it out there he'd likely think it was hers. She does have a very strong love of the color pink. Not a bad thing, but definitely something that he's noted. He's not one to judge. He wears a suit with red, white and blue plastered all over it. Or he did. ]

I never said I was lonely, Kimberly.

[ Steve smiles at her. Continuing to move to this different beat. ]

I just said I wanted to see you. There's a difference.

( he probably would be jealous of her scooter. it's morphinomenal, after all, and totally her color. but if he was jealous, kimberly could always show him where to pick up one of his own. they could probably find him one that's already star spangled and ready for action. it seemed like they could do anything in this city. )

Well, you're seeing me now.

( she lets the statement end there for a moment, implications all too obvious as her gaze stays focused on his, fingertips trailing along the back of his neck as they rock back and forth.

she's lost track of how many songs have come and gone, how many people have switched partners or left the dance floor entirely in the process; all that seems to really matter is the calm, patient way he smiles at her, body just close enough to hers that she can feel the heat of his skin rolling off.

but she'll fill in the gap, a little, murmuring into the quiet, ) Was that all you wanted? Just to see me?

( she hopes not, but she's trying not to assume. )

[ Getting some sort of transportation around Cadelle is sound more and more like a good idea the longer he's here. In the past he's had a nasty habit of using his motorcycles as weapons when push came to shove. Usually throwing them in some manner. But here he thinks that maybe he could have one for longer than a few months. He'll have to hunt for one. See if he can afford something. It'd definitely make dates a lot easier if he had something to pick them up on.

She's not subtle. Which is good. It's helpful. He wants to move in closer. He wants to do a lot of things, but Steve is a gentleman. He waits. He waits for the opening or the subtle invite. He doesn't push beyond. He does wait for the limits to be pulled back a bit and then he usually leans in. Which is different to how he approaches the other things in his life. But women are different. Women he very rarely understands.

The questions put him off balance. Not literally. His mind whirls a little bit. Trying to find the appropriate response. He doesn't blurt. He just sort of lets the idea roll around in his head. ] No. [ His voice is deeper. Rougher than he expected when he opened his mouth to respond. ]

I wanted to do a lot more than just see you, Kimberly. [ He looks down at her lips and back up. ] To you.

( the dip in his gaze doesn't go unnoticed. it's just another hint, coupled with the rough edge in his voice, like he needed to swallow down some thickness in his throat before speaking, that tells her just what sort of things he had in mind. things beyond this sort of casual closeness, arms draped over his shoulders and hands collected behind his neck.

she has a few ideas, but there's something particularly enjoyable about pushing him towards making the first move. she likes that she can encourage him to state his own desires, even if it takes a little time. she likes, too, to encourage with her own enthusiasm, to drape herself that much closer with each step he takes.

with a slow, patient smile, kimberly lets her head tilt to the side, gazing up at him all the while. ) What's stopping you? ( because she's certainly not. )

[ Maybe it's cause she looks young. Younger than he knows. Or realizes. But that doesn't matter. Steve's from a time when things like that weren't really looked at too hard. A lot of people got involved with people older or younger. It was war time. You found someone where you could. You made yourself happy however you could. But still when he does look at her he wants to look after her. Keep her safe. But that might just be an instinct in him he'll never be able to shake with anyone.

She continues to push on Steve's buttons. Playing the game of provoking him into action. Much like Sara would do. He doesn't mind it. He's getting used to it more and more to be honest. Women pushing Steve Rogers to be a little more persistent and confident in what he wants. Not allowing him to linger and just think about it constantly.

His brow arches up at her question. She's right. In her own way she's basically told him she's not going to stop him. Why is he stopping himself? There aren't anymore words. Just a quick intake of air and Steve is leaning in to kiss her. There's no way he could pull her any closer. He holds onto her and he tilts his head as he deepens the kiss. ]

( she is young, and seemingly indestructible, too, at least so far as physical injuries are concerned; the combination of the two leaves nothing but youthful recklessness, a willingness to disregard conventional rules in favor of something more enjoyable.

in favor of things like the way his hands hold her flush against him, her own smoothing over the slopes of his shoulders, gripping steady as her mouth gives in to his. there's no resistance, only a pleased little sound echoing into the embrace and her own eager return, perhaps a bit heightened by the drink lingering in her system.

she wants him to kiss her. wants a lot more than just a single kiss shared on the dance floor, too, if he's willing to give it. to do a lot more than see you, he'd said, and kimberly wanted nothing more in that moment than to let him do any and all of those things. maybe not all of them here, but somewhere.

they part momentarily, as required, and she murmurs a little breathlessly: ) What else did you want?

[ However indestructible she is on the outside that never accounts for the inside. Steve found that out the hard way. He was bigger and stronger after the serum, but he still crumbled just the same when he watched Bucky fall. Just as vulnerable on the inside as before. Which is mostly what he's worried about. Youth brings arrogance and with arrogance comes that feeling. Of flying too close to the sun. And the landing almost always hurts.

But he can't worry too much about Kimberly now. Not when she's pushing every button he has. She doesn't push him away which he didn't think would happen. Not after everything she said. If he were completely normal and not serum enhanced he might not have heard the sound she made. It might have gotten covered up by the music that's pounding in their ears, but there was no mistaking it. It sticks in Steve's brain and motivates him properly.

When the kiss does end she's asking him a question and for a moment he doesn't process. Still rolling over what happened. Finally he nods. ] Not anything that we should do out here on this dance floor. [ Which is the truth. He's going to let her pick where. Mostly because this sort of out and about lust he's experiencing is not something Steve goes through on the regular. ]

You wanna go somewhere? Anywhere.

God, that sounds good.

( does she want to go? yes. there's no hesitation in her nod or the murmured response, that solid and sure affirmation slipping through her lips loud and clear on the dance floor. where is the question, and her mind takes a moment to run through the options — his apartment, same as before unless he's moved, simple and straightforward but hardly comfortable, or her own address. there's not much of a debate there. )

Yeah, ( repeated again, emphasis given, before she lets her hand drag down his arm until it's curved across his palm, until their fingers tangle together with a tight squeeze. it gives her opportunity to pull him along with her, until they've cleared the dance floor and the straggling crowd around it, until they've abandoned the club altogether for the cool air outside and the echo of cars on the street. ) I do. I really want to.

( she hadn't driven tonight. she might be fond of adrenaline, but kimberly's seen enough dui-prevention commercials to last a lifetime. a taxi had brought her here, and one would bring her home. this time, it'd bring her home with a passenger. )

We're not on the dance floor anymore, either.

[ Steve is a simple guy. He hasn't had time to really evaluate the options of moving anywhere else. Of finding a place that's bigger and with more room. He's used to sleeping in smaller places. He's used to sleeping in foxholes and trenches. He's used to putting his head down in the mud. He could sleep and live just about anywhere if he needed to. At this point though with the things he would like to do with her he's not sure if the space there would provide a proper setting.

But Kimberly comes through. She takes his hand and pulls him with her. He doesn't resist. He goes along with her. She's quick and she takes them to the curb. He knows she's going to be hailing a taxi. Once they see one that is. But once she reminds him that they're not on the dance floor with prying eyes he smiles. He lets go of her hand and winds his arms around her waist to pull her in.

Finally he kisses her again. A little harder this time. A groan escaping when they make contact. The music is muffled, but you can hear the bass through the building. But he can hear Kimberly much better now. Smell her. Feel her. See her. His tongue slides along her lips as he pulls her against him. ]

( there's wanting in his touch this time, pure and greedy and demanding, as sturdy hands tug her that much closer, arms wrapping around her waist to keep her snug and flush against him. not that she wants to be anywhere else. no, there's something particularly eager about the easy way her mouth parts for his exploration, the column of her spine arching into the touch as his hands splay against the thin fabric of her dress. she wants to be right here, right now, the sheer force of desire keeping her rooted in place.

until, at least, the sharp beep of a taxi driver tapping on the horn pulls her from her admittedly blurry thoughts. one beep, and then two; there's nothing but slightly embarrassed laughter as they part for air, and then she's back to tugging him along, piling into the backseat of the cab and giving an address to the driver. to his credit, he looks more annoyed at the traffic than any sort of anything to having to wait for his passengers. perhaps that's to be expected in a place like this. )

It shouldn't take very long, ( a whispered admittance as she settles against the backseat, fingertips reaching out to draw lazy patterns against the top of his knee. ) I don't live very far from here.

( no more than ten minutes, really, even with traffic. the city's not that big. )

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( open ) ❤ ❝ you're a fine girl ❞

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