As soon as Steve's got his bearings, his pace picks up, and hers does, too, like matching his breathing when he falls asleep. He won't outrun her, isn't making this a race, although the last hundred yards to the top will probably be a different story. Still, she's grateful for it, even if she wouldn't care if he did, wouldn't mind if he sprinted on ahead, pushed her further, faster. She might not be as fast as him, but she can keep up, can go toe to toe as far as she can.
It's no insult that Steve is faster or stronger than her. She doesn't expect to be better than him. What she expects is to be the best of herself, and the best of herself can at least give him someone at his back, who can come with him. Even up a mountain. Even if it's hard. It's not impossible.
Which makes her shoot a curving, distracted smile at him, as she navigates the last few steps, sweat a sheen across her skin, the ends of her ponytail damp from hitting slick shoulders, sticking to her neck. Sweat trickling into her eyes from her hairline.
And still, she smiles. Breathless and feeling brilliant with it all: the heat and the pain and the complaints from her body and the altitude lifting all around them.
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branchandroot
(no subject)
Date: 2013-01-27 04:32 pm (UTC)It's no insult that Steve is faster or stronger than her. She doesn't expect to be better than him. What she expects is to be the best of herself, and the best of herself can at least give him someone at his back, who can come with him. Even up a mountain. Even if it's hard. It's not impossible.
Which makes her shoot a curving, distracted smile at him, as she navigates the last few steps, sweat a sheen across her skin, the ends of her ponytail damp from hitting slick shoulders, sticking to her neck. Sweat trickling into her eyes from her hairline.
And still, she smiles. Breathless and feeling brilliant with it all: the heat and the pain and the complaints from her body and the altitude lifting all around them.
"I thought you said this was going to be hard."