thekidfrombrooklyn | (no subject)

"No, not lonely." He picks up his towel to give it a shake. "I always knew you were right there.

"But I can see how eas it would be, to be alone with your thoughts out there."

[ooc: My thoughts exactly.]

"It's good for that, yeah," Orpheus says, picking up their bag to pack up their belongings.

Steve pulls on the shirt he wore for the walk from the hotel--while people all around are in a state of near-nudity, he can't bring himself to be that casual--and says, "I like it a lot. I may have to look into that more when the war's over."

Orpheus just tosses his own shirt over his shoulder and reaches for Steve's hand. "There are a lot of places you can do it. Anywhere that gets waves, really."

Edited 2012-12-10 04:52 (UTC)

"I hope I'll get back to California, at least, and try it there."

He lets their fingers weave together.

"I think California would be good for you," Orpheus muses.

"There's not much left in New York for me now," Steve says softly.

Orpheus squeezes his hand. He understands that all too well.

Steve is quiet for a while.

"Thanks for this."

"For taking you somewhere we can spend all our time half-naked in the sunshine? You don't need to thank me
for that, lovely."

"For taking me away so I can ... cope with things." He smiles at Orpheus. "While being half-naked in the sunshine."

Orpheus shrugs, smiling faintly. "Of course," he says, quiet and sincere.

Of course he would do whatever Steve needed from him.

Steve hugs him around the shoulders.

"Come on, lovely," Orpheus says. "Let's go back."

"I'm ready," says Steve with a nod.

Orpheus kisses his cheek and slides an arm around Steve's waist, pulling him along toward the hotel.

In the room, Steve changes out of his wet trunks for shorts and a t-shirt, and gets out his sketchbooks and pencils.

Their room has an ocean view and a terrace, perfect for an artist looking to make something beautiful.

Orpheus peels off his trunks as well, pulling on a dry pair of shorts and picking up his guitar to join Steve on the terrace.

Steve smiles at him absently as Orpheus joins him, then bends over the sketchbook.

The drawing is of a lone surfer (Orpheus, to the discerning eyes) in silhouette against the sun, surrounded by blue sky and blue water.

Orpheus takes a seat near him, settling his guitar in his lap, playing and humming idly.

"So peaceful here," Steve says quietly, after a while.

"Yeah," Orpheus agrees, and his song reflects that: peaceful, content, affectionate, warm.

Steve gazes him fondly, and reaches over to touch his cheek. "I'm thinking I should head back tomorrow."

Orpheus leans into the touch. "If you're sure."

"I can't put it off forever. I need to find out what Philips learned from Zola ... make sure that Bucky didn't die in vain."