(no subject)

[thekidfrombrooklyn]

Steve wanted someplace warm, so Orpheus delivered Australia. Steve considered himself a fairly seasoned traveler, since he'd been to one end of the States to the other and seen as much of Europe as a man could in wartime--but Australia is like no place else. Ancient and mysterious while open and friendly, starkly beautiful in some places and overflowing with nature in others.

Best of all, there's no shortage of warmth.

Steve has acquired a decent tan on his pale Irish skin, a basic understanding of the Australian accent, and a reputation among other tourists of always winning the drinking contests.


[ooc: Adult content warning.]

Comments

[thekidfrombrooklyn]

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

[golden_lyre]

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

[thekidfrombrooklyn]

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.

[golden_lyre]

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.

[thekidfrombrooklyn]

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.

[golden_lyre]

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

[thekidfrombrooklyn]

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

[golden_lyre]

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

[thekidfrombrooklyn]

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

[golden_lyre]

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

[thekidfrombrooklyn]

"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."

[golden_lyre]

Orpheus nods and turns his head to kiss Steve's palm.

"All right."


[ooc: Bedtime.]

[thekidfrombrooklyn]

"Orpheus," Steve whispers and traces Orpheus's lips with his thumb. "If we go after Schmidt--I don't know what's going to happen after that."


[ooc: Good night!]

[golden_lyre]

Orpheus curls a hand around Steve's wrist, kissing his thumb.

"We'll deal with it. Whatever it is."

[thekidfrombrooklyn]

Steve watches him, his eyes soft, and then puts his sketchbook aside. "C'mere."

[golden_lyre]

Orpheus sets his guitar aside as well and moves to sit with him.

[thekidfrombrooklyn]

Steve moves over to make room in the lounge chair, and kisses Orpheus soundly, holding his face.

[golden_lyre]

Orpheus settles his hands at Steve's hips as he returns the kiss.

[thekidfrombrooklyn]

Steve presses their noses together with a sigh.

[golden_lyre]

Orpheus wants to tell Steve that everything will be fine, but he can't. He leans his forehead against Steve's and hums a soft tune, almost desperate in its fierce affection.

[thekidfrombrooklyn]

It makes Steve smile, and he pulls Orpheus closer to him so he can lay his head on Orpheus's shoulder.

[golden_lyre]

Orpheus leans against him, curling his arms around Steve, and continues the song.

[thekidfrombrooklyn]

Steve strokes his back.

[golden_lyre]

Orpheus tucks his face against Steve's neck, pressing his lips to Steve's skin as he hums.

[thekidfrombrooklyn]

Steve gently kisses the side of his face.