Work Text:
Peregrine is not in the habit of thinking ahead. So, when Steed shows up with a brown paper bag of beer to make peace with Eric, of all people, she doesn’t even blink. She takes a long look up and down at him, but she doesn’t do anything as pedestrian as blink. He’s so trimly arrayed – clean lines from his hair parting down to the creases in his trousers that touch, with police precision, at the tops of his shoes. She can’t fathom him getting along with bumbling boho Eric, but here he is, trying. She can try too. “Think quick,” she says, because that’s what she does, and her keys are shining in the air. She thinks quickly, goes quicker, and goodness does she want to see if a little application of speed can ruffle those trim lines and draw another full-blown smile out of those sweetly fascinating lips. Leaping off a balcony only put one curl out of place and he was still grouching then. She’s quite pleased when boyish glee bursts from him - in the spin of his foot as he leaps for the driver’s seat. Maybe I’m forgiven too, she thinks, and lets him floor it.