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captainjimothycarter · 3 years

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What are Steve's wedding vows to Peggy?

Hey i wrote something since like Saturday. kinda proud of myself despite BAD anxiety over this.

“Are you ready, Steve?”

The question came from Edwin Jarvis, the man sticking his head in through the curtains to smile at the nervous Captain. Steve just held up the bowtie in despair, trying to hide the shake in his fingers.

“I can mull down hundreds of Nazis. I can fight Hydra to the bone and-and nearly be killed by a frozen tundra, but what defeats me is a god dang bow tie!”

Jarvis laughed as he stepped into the small side room, giving him a comforting smile. “You know,” he mused as he started to do the tie. “When I was marrying my Ana, I was so nervous I fainted right as we got to I do.”

Steve felt himself gap, looking the man up and down. He could picture that, not that he would say it. He felt like he might faint before he even got out to where Bucky and Colonel Phillips were waiting for him.

“When I came to, my head was in Ana’s lap and I insisted she was an angel. She practically is - not that I’ll ever insist anything different. She’s never let me live that down, that rascal. The point is, Captain Rogers,” the man smirked as he finished the tie and smoothed it out along Steve’s neck. “It’s okay to be nervous.”

“I’m...Captain America, I shouldn’t be nervous, I wasn’t nervous when-”

“Let me ask you something,” Jarvis spoke over him, patting the guy’s shoulders to get him to sit down. He pulled a comb out of nowhere and started to fix Steve’s mousy hair from his constant fingers combing through it. All Steve could do was look on in the mirror. “When you bulldozed through of Hydra agents or lead your Howling Commandos through countless missions or did whatever you did in what the reports do not say, were you nervous?”

“Of course not, those guys depended on me. I couldn’t afford to be nervous or second think my actions, someone might’ve died.” Plenty of people did, in ways Steve could’ve never stopped or predicted unless he’d been there, but he was one person.

Not that Jarvis was asking about this.

“Exactly. They depended on you. You needed to be ready for anything, to overcome anything Hydra would’ve thrown at you. Yet with Miss Carter, you’re nervous about your wedding? It’s practically a tradition to be nervous. Do you know what that means?”

“That I’ll fumble my vows or drop the rings and it’ll roll into a gutter, never to be seen again?”

Jarvis snorted and lightly squeezed Steve’s shoulder. “No, Captain Rogers, it does not. It means that you love her. You love Miss Carter with every fiber of your being. It means you, my friend, will have an amazing wedding and marriage. Even if you do fumble, you can do no worse than me and fainting.”

Steve covered his face, trying to stabilize his breathing. He did love Peggy - Jarvis was right. There was no doubt about that. He loved her. Loved her so damn much he might explode. He just...was nervous.

“Being nervous,” Jarvis continued as he put the comb away and tilted Steve’s head up to inspect himself in the black and white suit. “Being nervous is a tradition. It means you love her. I’m sure Miss Carter is nervous too.”

Steve’s mouth opened to counter, Peggy couldn’t be nervous - he’s seen her stare enemies dead in the eye and not miss a beat. He’s seen her let herself get shot if it meant saving the hostage. He’s seen her survive countless trails and still stand on top at the end of the day. There’s no way Peggy was nervous. Yet, the second he opened his mouth to say something, Bucky stuck his head through the curtain.

His hair was perfectly parted thanks to his mother’s intervention. He was sure the second his ma wasn’t looking, he would mess it up. The suit he wore was a little on the older side, insisting he got to wear his dad’s suit to this wedding.

“You ready, Stevie? That green isn’t a good shade, bud.”

Steve gently swatted at Bucky’s chest as he adjusted the suit once more, trying to take in a deep breath to calm down.

“Shut up. I’m just...nervous. How’s everything looking? We ready?”

“Ready as we’ll ever be. Ole Phillips is grumbling as ever. Dugan is waiting up there, Angie is ready. We’ve already had to stop the niece and nephew from throwing the flowers everywhere.”

“Oliver and Penny really like those roses, huh?” Steve’s lips twitched into a small laugh at the idea of the kids going haywire with those roses. “And Peggy? Is she…?”

“Ana and Rose and even Howard are in there, it’s alright.” Seeing his friend’s panic look, he smoothed down his suit again, the metallic hand glimmering in the dull light of the chapel. “Let’s get this party started and get you two crazy kids married.”

“Always knew you two would end up together,” Phillips grunted as Steve stood nervously, shifting from foot to foot. “From the second she laid eyes on that scrawny form of yours.”

Steve laughed, a more forceful laugh given the nervous state he was in. He watched Jarvis politely sit down after checking in on the girls, Rose already coming up to stand by them. Bucky clapped Steve on the shoulder, squeezing him too hard.

“Told you,” he chuckled. “You two were meant to be…”

“‘cept you shouldn’t have shown up in the bar when we were having your public funeral,” Dugan interjected. “Not the best idea, Cap.”

“You’re lucky Carter didn’t shoot you on the spot, coming up with a soiled uniform, and half that glass in your chest,” Phillips grunted.

“Wouldn’t have hurt as bad, if-”

Steve stopped the second he heard Ana playing the piano, turning on his heels and towards the door.

He watched Oliver and Penny run through with the flowers, throwing them everywhere but the floor. His little giggle and the laugh through the chapel made him relax a little, but the second he saw Peggy, everything was back in full force.

She was...beautiful, spectacular. A thousand words he couldn’t think to say. His mind nothing but a fine-tuned sound of buzzing as he watched her slowly walk through that door. Ana had worked perfectly on that dress, the trim, the lace, every down to the last details of the pearls knitted into the collar.

Steve could feel the tears burning in his eyes as she slowly stood in front of him, hearing in the corner of his mind, Phillips muttering about sap.

He loved her.

“You look…” Steve struggled with the word as he held onto her glove-laced hands, looking down at them and slowly back to those beautiful hazel eyes that he’d fallen in love with before he even knew what color they were.

“I know,” Peggy finished, squeezing his hands. “You look pretty dashing yourself. We-”

“How about we get this show on the road, huh?” Phillips asked, breaking the silence, and the music slowly melted into the background. “We all knew we’d end up here today. It was just a matter of time and if it was legal or not. I expected you two to just waltz into my tent one day and demand to be married, the laws and logic be damned.”

“Almost,” Steve mused, shrugging his shoulders. Phillips’ grey eyes were trained on him, brow rose as if to ask what. “I proposed to Peggy after she’d been shot during the hostage situation of ‘44.”

“Son.” The tone said all and the Howling Commandos laughed the loudest. Steve glanced over to see Peggy’s side of the family, most with pursed lips. They still weren’t pleased that their daughter was marrying a Yankee.

“We told him to do it,” Dugan interjected.

“Dared him, actually,” Jones added.

“Double-dog dared him,” Bucky said.

“Actually, we told him to do it or we would on his behalf,” Pinky reminded them.

“We-”

Phillips’ look silenced Falsworth on the spot, the man clearing his throat and stepping back in line. “We’re no longer at war, boys, you don’t have to keep defending your Captain under insane circumstances. I’ll never forget about the damn goat incident.”

It was only a few minutes later before Phillips cleared his throat again and nodded towards the couple. “The couple has written their own vows. Ca-Steve, would you like to go first?”

Steve blinked as he felt Peggy’s eyes on him, trying to calm his racing heart down. “Okay, yeah. Yeah,” he breathed, taking the paper Dugan had passed him. “I stayed up till 4 in the morning working on this. Mr. Jarvis had to eventually take the pen from me so I’d sleep.”

“And he didn’t accept my help,” Howard muttered just loud enough for Steve to hear, making the Captain flush.

“Okay, here it goes,” Steve breathed, unfolding the paper and trying not to let how nervous he was shown. His hands were already starting to shake and he was afraid sweat would ruin the ink.

Peggy’s hand gently closed around his wrist and offered him a comforting smile. “It’s okay, darling. Just us. Not a whole platoon of guys to play Star-Spangled Man With A Plan.”

If he wasn’t blushing then, he was now.

“Peggy, I…” Steve looked down at the paper and back up at her. He could hear Jarvis’s voice in the back of his head telling him that when he got up there, he’d know what to say. Fumbling or not.

“Peggy, I love you. I’ve loved you ever since I first laid eyes on you and I didn’t know it. I didn’t know what the color of your lips was or the color of your eyes or your hair or even your uniform. I didn’t know the true sound of your voice or the smell of the roses on your skin. I didn’t know much then - hell I don’t know much now -”

A few people laughed and Steve lowered the paper, looking dead into his wife-to-be eyes.

“I didn’t know much then. I just knew you were hell on high heels and damn anyone who got in your path. When you first knocked out Hodge, I felt my breath taken away. When you ran for the grenade too, I wanted my last sight to be of you, swore I was goin’ blow myself up to a million pieces. Our first conversation in that car might’ve been one of our lasts and I was glad it was with you, someone who understood me. Understood what it was like to be discriminated against because we’re us… Because I was sickly and small and you were a woman, a girl, a-”

“You still don’t know how to talk to women, do you?” Peggy asked, blinking the tears from her eyes and making Steve give a wet laugh.

“I”m afraid not, how I managed to get you to fall in love with me is a wonder. The point is, Pegs, I love you, from the bottom of my heart. All through the war, we talked about what we wanted after. I insisted on a white-picket fence, a house in some neighborhood, that we’d build the perfect life together and well...you saw where that lead us. Me to a watery grave and you punching me out when I showed up at that bar. Even if I was late for our dance.

I just...I love you. Life has taken us on insane turns from clearing our friend’s name to-to living in LA for a few months. To...to here. To me finally getting the guts to purpose to you. Or more like catching my breath. I need you in my life and I’m lucky to have you. I’m more than happy to sit on the sidelines and let you work, to raise our kids or tend to a home, to do anything you ask. I’m more than happy to just be yours. I just...I need to be yours like I need to breathe. You are my life, Peggy Carter, and I’ll have no other but you. I’m lucky to be your husband, to be by your side through it all.”

Peggy didn’t bother to hide the few tears running down her face, thankful Angie had fixed her makeup just right to prevent the tear streaks from showing. She cleared her face off with the handkerchief Rose had given her and sniffled.

“Sap,” she laughed, shaking her head. “I stayed up late last night but not writing these vows. I...told myself I knew what I was going to say when I got up here, but I’m mistaken. I can only say I love you, Steve Rogers. You are my life. My soul. When I was young, I insisted I wouldn’t marry. I insisted my life was to slay dragons, rescue knights, be a pirate. To be anything but the lady my mother wanted me to be.

I insisted I knew what I wanted for myself. That I-I wanted to be a codebreaker and I was good at it. I-”

“And saved our lives with it,” Howard said, causing them to laugh.

“Yes, Howard, thank you. I am good at it. I’m great at it. I insisted that’s all I could do to help the war effort, to maybe consider becoming a nurse but my mother and Fred forbidden it. I insisted I loved Fred because my mother did. I insisted that I could do some good by staying home, being the good wife, and keeping my head down. I insisted on a lot of things but for myself…

It took Micheal’s death for me to see there was more for me out there. The SSR was life-changing for me. Getting to serve under Colonel Phillips’ here, getting to meet you, even if you were...different.”

“It’s okay, call him a shrimp like I did,” Phillips interjected, making Peggy give a wet chuckle. “Kid got that sandwich after all.”

He swore the man smiled at him - even if Steve wouldn’t admit it.

“You were different. You stood out from the rest and it was because of your good heart. Yes the grenade incident, but you helped the nurses around the base. You helped collect herbs for them when we ran out of pain killers, you remembered decades-old healing practices that your mother taught you. You gave some of the guys, even if they were bastards to you, advice on how to fix their broken shoelaces or how to even hide the knives better in their clothes. You were kind and sweet-hearted and I wanted you from the start.

Even after your serum, you didn’t change. You saved that kid. You saved me, even if I was quite upset about it.”

“You did yell at me a lot for pushing you out of the way,” Steve interrupted, remembering that chaotic day.

“You were running with no shoes on and shoved me out of the way of an oncoming car. I had to yell about something.” She smoothed down his suit and sighed, shaking the veil. “Even after that, Steve, I...I love you. I loved you from the start. During the war, that love only grew. I thought we hid it well.”

“No,” Bucky snorted. “No, you two did not. Everyone knew.”

“Yes, thank you, James,” Peggy huffed, giving her friend a roll of her eyes. “That love for you grew and I’m only sorry we didn’t act sooner, that we didn’t kiss more or-or risk it to just touch each other in blatant public when we needed the comfort because it was a war. I am sorry that it took this long to get here - but we’re here. Look at us. We’re here, sweetheart. We’re getting married after all in a setting of our choice, with our friends and family. It’s worth the wait.”

“You’re always worth the wait,” Steve whispered, swallowing the lump in his throat.

“I love you,” Peggy whispered, squeezing his hands. “I loved you then, to now, and forevermore. I’ll never stop loving you, no part of my soul will be complete without you. You are my light, Steven Grant Rogers, as I am your compass, your true star north. You are my light and I want nothing more from you than a life that we paved together.”

There was no dry eye around them, even the grisled Colonel was sniffing slightly and wiping at his eyes. He squeezed the book in his hand and gave the couple a warm smile. “Aren’t you two kids sweet? Why don’t we wrap this up so you two can kiss like how you did in the supply closets?”

Steve felt his ears burn, turning back to Peggy and holding her hands. He wasn’t sure how he survived the rest of the ceremony. Of Bucky bringing the rings to them, his ma’s old ring that Howard had cleaned up and engraved with their wedding date on it. Peggy’s father’s wedding band.

He wasn’t sure how he barely got the words I do our before Peggy was jumping on him to kiss him and Steve’s arms found a way around her frame to pick her up and kiss the life out of her.

The wedding they dreamed of and feared that they never had.

A life yet to come with many memories down the road.

#Steggy #StevePeggy #Steggy Prompt #Steve Rogers #Peggy Carter #Howling Commandos #Fluff #Steggy Fic

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theawkwardterrier · 3 years

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When in the Depth of Winter

Summary: Peggy notices how the cold troubles Steve and tries to fix it.

The first part of my Steggy Secret Santa outtakes posting. This one was rejected because it refused to stay as light as I wanted, so take that as you will.

Read on AO3

Something happens to Steve as the temperature begins to drop below freezing. Peggy doesn’t think that anyone else has noticed - when asked if he seems different to her, Angie declares, “Nah, swell - and gorgeous! - as always,” and Bucky points out that just because the current war is a cold one, doesn’t mean that Steve feels he’s through with his responsibilities - but it’s terribly obvious to her. Or perhaps it’s only that no one else is around to see him walk through the house in his warmest socks or take an extra quilt from the linen closet to add to their bed. No one else thinks to notice how odd it is for him to bundle in gloves and a scarf and a hat, even though his core temperature stays consistently high regardless. She seems to be the only one who sees him turn from cheery window displays and tuck himself even quieter and farther inside at the parties they’re invited to.

She asks him about it, of course she does. They’ve been married for a year and had been seeing each other nearly daily for months before then, ever since he’d been recovered from the Valkyrie. There’s no one she trusts as much as she does Steve and she doesn’t think it flattery but mere fact that she holds similar esteem to him. Still, he only frowns and shrugs in response to her questions, says he’s feeling the same as usual, kissing her gently on the temple or crown or mouth and thanking her for worrying about him. And she doesn’t think he’s intentionally lying; sometimes, however, your feelings are buried so deeply that you don’t even recognize them. That doesn’t mean that they aren’t there. That doesn’t mean that there isn’t anything to be done.

Somehow, as if knowing that Peggy has other things to think about and can’t stay in the office until all hours or pop in for emergency sessions on weekends (or perhaps because she isn’t the only one whose family has her focus just now), her agents are closing cases at a top clip and the criminal underworld seems to have settled into some sort of hibernation.

And so Peggy is able to stop at the delicatessen on a Friday and still be home by suppertime.

“It’s the absolute perfect evening,” she says as soon as she comes through the door. “Come for a walk with me.” There’s an excitement to the declaration rather than any martial strictness; after an assessing look at her - this isn’t precisely normal for the two of them - he stands and dons his coat to join her outside.

They live away from the main street and most of their neighbors are already tucked away inside their homes. When they do encounter someone, they exchange nods, but for the most part there is only the soft sound of their boots atop the leftover snow, their exhalations of breath which fog in the air.

Through the larger front windows they can see families eating and couples reading side by side, silhouettes of Christmas trees, and once, a couple sharing a kiss in a dim sitting room. One or the other of them will point out some particularly pretty decorations. It is not late but the winter darkness is so complete that when they step through a streetlight the reality of the brightness is nearly a surprise, a brief dawning which reminds them of how lovely the velvet night can be too.

Pressed close as they are, she feels him shiver as a breeze blows past them. Leaning up, she touches her chilled cheek to his warmer one, both their eyes closed. And without speaking, they turn around and start for home.

Their fireplace has never been used before now, but they light it tonight, sit in front of its bathing warmth to eat the chicken soup that she had brought home, reheated piping hot. They don’t speak much but it is enough, unhurried and peaceful. She can feel him watching her, trying to figure through her intentions, but in the end he seems simply to accept it, leaning back and allowing himself to be thawed.

“What do you think of ice skating?” she asks him as they finish washing the breakfast dishes one Saturday morning.

He gives her an odd glance. “Walking but on ice and with knives strapped to your feet?” he tries.

“Well, I’m sure there’s nothing we have to do today which can’t keep until tomorrow, and I’ve bought you a pair of skates which should fit.”

Steve is her husband, and before that he was her friend, and he is above all her partner. She doesn’t often use with him the tone of voice she does for stubborn politicians or agency heads who disagree with her, the one which is simultaneously so firm as not to brook complaint and a bit blithe, as though whatever is being discussed has already been decided in Peggy’s favor and aren’t they silly for having forgotten. By the way his eyebrows furrow even deeper, she knows he recognizes it and he even opens his mouth to say so, but in the end he instead goes to get his coat.

Their house is a ten minute walk from the skating pond - not even that if you’re Steve - but they’re usually too busy to even contemplate availing themselves of it. It’s already midmorning by the time they arrive and the day is perfect, sunny but frigid, so no one has to worry about softening ice. They are far enough into the season, however, that the novelty has worn off and only a few other groups are taking advantage.

Steve has, through mutual effort, become a passable dancer beyond back and forth swaying and turning in circles (not that the style doesn’t have its own charms). That skill doesn’t seem to translate to the ice, however, and he spends their first turns around the pond clutching her hands with the trembling ankles of a newborn deer taking its first steps. But he picks it up more quickly than she had expected, his serum-induced athleticism activating as he continues to practice, and soon his hand in hers has nothing to do with balance or security anymore.

They get competitive, they can’t help it, laughing as they race, taking care to swerve around the others with whom they are sharing the ice. Steve tries a couple of jumps - daring and occasionally reckless as he might be, he’s smart enough not to attempt flips just yet - and even when he falls, he just laughs and shakes himself off as he stands again.

It doesn’t escape Peggy’s eyes as they switch back over into their street shoes that Steve has stuffed his gloves into his pocket, that he drapes his coat over his arm deference to the sweat they’ve worked up. But she doesn’t mention anything, merely takes his hand once again for the walk home.

They go to watch Angie playing Martha Cratchit in A Christmas Carol the next week, and treat her to supper and hot apple cider afterward. (Steve crinkles his nose but keeps taking baffled sips from his mug, as if a preference for it might sneak up on him if he only keeps trying.) The week after that, it snows again and they spend Sunday in Prospect Park with Bucky so Peggy can experience the site of their youthful sledding exploits.

“Well, we didn’t exactly have a sled then,” Steve points out as they climb Lookout Hill. “But there’s plenty you can do with a garbage can lid or the old instrument trays that the hospital was getting rid of.” It’s the sort of statement which would have Peggy’s mother making faces like she had just sniffed sour milk, but Peggy herself actually smiles at the picture of her husband small enough to curl himself up for a trip down the hill and brash enough to try it.

“Can’t believe you’re forgetting my masterpiece,” Bucky jokes. “Weeks of collecting scrap wood and old nails, borrowing my dad’s hammer to put it all together, and you don’t even mention it.”

Steve shakes his head. “My mother was certain I’d get tetanus just from being near that thing when she saw what you’d made.”

“I think my ears are still ringing from her shouting - and don’t think I’ve forgotten that it was mostly at me.”

“You were the one stupid enough to build it!”

“You’re the one who was stupid enough to ride it.” With a grin, Bucky adds, “I didn’t think anyone could shout louder than my ma, so I guess I learned a lesson in more than woodworking that day.”

“Now I’m even more disappointed that I was never given a chance to meet her,” Peggy says as they reach the top before Bucky can play any further with the word woodworking. He had been discovered in Russia by a SHIELD spy and extracted a year before they found Steve; he is quiet about the professional help he has been getting to manage the pain of the things that happened to him during the war and after, but it’s clearly making a difference: his terrible sense of humor is returning in fuller force even than she knew it could. Steve’s hip nudges against hers, and she knows that it is not by accident. She looks up at him and catches his smile.

After a morning of racing down the hill until the crowds arrive, after they’d handed over their sleds to a group of kids without their own and, picking up food on the way, gone back to Bucky’s apartment to eat and talk and laugh together, Peggy and Steve take the train back home. His cheeks are still somewhat rosy when she looks at him, and the remnants of laughter still dance about his mouth. Halfway there, a pair of seats opens up and they sit side by side, leaning into each other a bit, watching absently through the steamed window as the city passes them by.

“I can tell what you’re doing, you know,” Steve says as they climb the porch stairs, returning from helping out at the Red Cross rummage sale. Steve has plenty of volunteer projects he’s associated with around the neighborhood - the soup kitchen, the community center - but she had been the one to suggest this; she remembers how welcome that bright symbol had been on the battlefield, in the same way as Steve’s shield.

“Unlocking the door?” she asks as she plucks her keys from her bag.

He is so near to her that she can feel his heat and practically his narrowed eyes as well as he says, “Not—Well, sure, but what I meant was that I know that you don’t just suddenly find winter outings appealing.”

She lets them through the door, unbuttoning her coat with her other hand. “Perhaps I’m only just becoming comfortable enough with you to share my love for them.” Until he comes out with what he is thinking, she isn’t going to simply believe the jig to be up.

“Peggy,” he says, and to anyone else listening it would just be her name, but she hears the real sharpness to the word. She turns to him, coat still draped around her shoulders. He’s shut the door with his foot and they haven’t had a chance to switch on the lights; his face is shadowed, difficult to make out in the muted light of the late afternoon.

“When you asked,” he says, and then makes himself take in more air. “When you asked if something was wrong, I didn’t know that there was. But it’s just that—” He ducks his head, then lifts it again, making himself look toward her. “I keep thinking of all those winters of never being quite warm enough, never having a good coat or shoes to keep out the damp, the way I knew that I was getting sick by the way my breath would catch when I laughed or when there was a certain taste in the back of my throat. I can’t forget the smell of trench foot from guys who’d been walking in wet boots for days, or the times I had to be the one to keep digging the graves because the ground was so frozen no one else could get through it. There are nights I close my eyes and see Buck falling, that jacket of his all dark against the snow, even though he survived, he’s back now and safe. And sometimes, when the wind is really bad, I feel like I remember—” He cuts himself off, shaking his head, though his shoulders shake as well, broad as they are.

They have talked about their time apart, as they call it, but he has always wanted to keep the focus on her end, on the things she had done and the way she had felt and all that had happened to her, pushing off talk of his end of things with reminders that there wasn’t anything to tell about what was essentially a prolonged sleep. They both know that he shouldn’t be able to recall any of it - he swears he was knocked out by the impact of the crash and he only woke up again long after he had been removed from the shell of the Valkyrie and completely warmed - but even the thought that he might remember a moment of his time frozen beneath the ice stabs at her.

“I could see that this time of year was difficult for you,” she says, and she doesn’t look away from him even as she folds herself inward. Typically her bulling forward has worked in her favor; the idea that it might have backfired and hurt the person she least wants to is intolerable. “I thought we might try to cloud some of the associations for you, to give you some new memories for the season. But perhaps it was a bit too much to overcome.”

He ducks his head and steps toward her; he is very near in the darkened front hall. “You weren’t wrong to try. The thing is that you did give me good new memories: helping people get through the worst of the cold, spending time with our friends, all those new moments with you. Those memories have to fit inside my head along with the old ones; you just made sure that sometimes when it’s cold what I’ll remember instead is kissing you with snowflakes on your eyelashes. I’m just never sure which is going to be the one my brain’ll bring up.”

“I know as well as you do that it’s impossible to erase the other memories,” she says. “But it’s terribly important to me to make sure that you have an entire lifetime’s worth of happy ones too.”

“You’ve given me a million wonderful ones, even when you weren’t trying,” he says staunchly. Captain America isn’t just a persona or a symbol, it’s who he is, the bolsterer, strong and entirely reliable, she’s always known that. But it is so clearly Steve Rogers who, after a pausing moment, asks, low and a bit worried, “But what about—I don’t want you to feel guilty if sometimes the good memories aren’t always enough. It’s only that the bad ones are still in there too.”

She closes her eyes; how particularly privileged she feels for him to allow himself to say such a thing when he spends so much time considering himself last, trying to make sure no one thinks of having to extend a hand on his behalf.

“Well,” she says, stepping forward and tucking herself beneath his coat with him, wrapping arms around his back to hold him tightly to herself. “In those moments, we just stand together and wait for spring.”

#Steggy fic #Steggy #Steve Rogers #Peggy Carter #alternate universe - Steve was found in the ice #bad psychology

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florida3exclamationpoints · 3 years

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Hello! So I'm loving the reactions you post after re-watching agent carter- it feels like im rewatching them as well! And I see you are a Taylor Swift fan as well- so, which TS song represents each of the different characters in Agent Carter? (I'm really excited to see what you think of Peggy and Jarvis!) Have a great day!😊

You have no idea how happy this ask made me, seriously. When I saw it last night I was so excited and thought about my answers for a while and then decided I would answer it today, but then today was a very hard day for me and this has given me a bit of a distraction. Thank you so much.

So anyway, since I'm now on my fourth rewatch of Agent Carter I'd like to think I know a bit about these characters 😌 I did struggle a lil with songs for some of them though. HERE WE GO (in alphabetical order) (unfortunately that puts Peggy last) (warning very long)

Ana - Daylight. Ana was kinda hard to pick one for but I couldn't leave her out. I think Daylight applies to a lot of different points in her life, from meeting Jarvis and leaving Hungary to recovering after she got shot and when they (hopefully) adopted.

Angie - Mean. I was actually so proud of myself when I thought of this. It fits so well!!! I have to believe that Angie had a big Broadway breakout at some point after all of her rejections. And meanwhile she would totally be singing that someday she'd be big enough that they couldn't hit her.

Daniel - mirrorball. I definitely think Daniel is a mirrorball. Not a bad thing, but I think you can see it in the way he interrogated Peggy. That wasn't him and he was trying to prove himself and impress the other guys, as he had at other points during the first season. It's also there with his relationship with Violet, he tried to stay with her instead of following his heart because he thought it was the right thing to do. I'm trying to remember if there were hints of it during his AoS run too but im kinda blanking lol.

Dottie - no body, no crime. Ok kinda obvious. I think mirrorball could just as well fit Dottie as it does Daniel but in a much darker way. And since mirrorball was already taken I had to go for nbnc. Of course the song holds a very intricate story that doesn't really fit Dottie, and she doesn't murder for such noble-vengeful reasons as Este's friend did BUT STILL. Maybe she could use a similar story for a cover up or something. Idk. I just think Dottie lives by the motto "no body, no crime" dkdhskjsjjd (but let it be known that she's also an evil mirroball.)

Howard - The Lucky One. I know he thinks he's the lucky one but I think its safe to say this applies to him on some level. Especially in season one. Since he was being labeled a traitor, and it shows in what he said to Peggy when she found out about the blood a little too I think.

Jack - epiphany. I really wanted to pick a passive aggressive song for him bc I am far from Jack's biggest fan but I couldn't come up with one. Jack was actually the hardest to pick for. And epiphany could go for any of the characters who were in the war too but I had better ideas for them lol. But what we see of Jack in Russia in 1x05 is really what makes me lean towards this for him. Just so you know, I considered just saying "Jack - it's time to go. Because he should go." But I didn't wanna be too mean skdbskdj

Jarvis - peace. I tried really hard to pick songs based only on the character only and not who I ship them with, but I think Jarvis is a little different because he's married and not just shipped with Ana. Obviously he has guilt about how his working with Peggy affects Ana and I think the lyrics of peace fit really well in their situation. You could also say that it applies to him making the decision to work with Peggy, is it enough if he couldn't give himself peace kinda. I like both for him.

Peggy - The Man, mad woman, I Did Something Bad. These were probably kinda expected and I know I'm cheating a little by picking more than one but. I did. I would say equally The Man and mad woman with idsb sprinkled in. And I think it's fairly self explanatory. If she was a man, she WOULD be the man. WHAT A SHAME SHE WENT MAD!! YOU MADE HER LIKE THAT!! She'd do it over and over again if she could! Light! Her! Up! I rest my case.

#i hope i hit all the characters!#of you have any more you want totally send them to me i had a lot of fun with this!#that goes for any character too as ling as i know something about them lol #long post #agent carter #peggy carter #edwin jarvis #ana jarvis #angie martinelli #dottie underwood #daniel sousa #jack thompson #howard stark #marvel #asks #skgrstuff

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glorious-spoon · 3 years

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Relief Rider | Agent Carter

First of two fics I did for Fandom Trees, a multifandom gifting exchange. There’s a lot of stuff on there that looks really good - go check out the AO3 collection as well!

Title: Relief Rider Pairing: Gen Rating: Teen Warnings: None Other Tags: Dragonriders AU Wordcount: ~1000

ON AO3

Peggy was halfway through her second bitter mug of klah for the day when Dooley stuck his head into the dining hall and barked, “Carter!”

Angie gave her a wide-eyed look across the table, and Peggy tried to shush her without opening her mouth before lifting her head. Dooley looked out-of-sorts and tired in scorched leathers, sweaty hair uncharacteristically disheveled from his helmet, which was still tucked under his arm.

She shoved back her seat and stood, sketching a salute that did nothing more than make him scowl. “Sir?”

He eyed her with a look of distaste that she was accustomed to, but there was also an assessing air to his gaze that was new. Finally, he heaved a sigh.

“Gear up,” he said finally.

Peggy blinked. “Sir?”

“Something wrong with your ears, Carter? Krzeminski’s down, and there’s Threadfall due in three marks. His Setoth is already saddled, and we need a full wing. Can you handle it?”

Peggy snapped to at that. “Yes, sir. Krzeminski—that is, will he be—”

“He’ll probably live,” Dooley said. “Not your problem right now. Can you handle it, or can’t you?”

Now was not the moment to point out that she’d been a relief rider on the front for three turns, that she’d watched friends and fellow riders fall under Thread, that she bore the scars of it herself. The ravages were manageable these days, and the services of unpaired riders like Peggy were no longer needed, or so she’d been repeatedly informed.

Really, no one liked to be reminded of the possibility of outliving their dragon. Like Daniel with his wooden leg, Peggy was a reminder of there but for the grace of God.

“Of course, sir,” she said crisply. “Let me get my gear.”

Dooley grunted, then turned on his heel to leave. Peggy shared a single wide-eyed look with Angie, then downed the last of her klah in a single bitter gulp and all but scrambled for her rooms.

Her leathers were all in mint riding condition, which was to say, well-oiled, but viciously scarred. She’d seen some new riders with fresh, lavishly decorated gear gifted to them by well-meaning family and friends, and these days it sometimes even stayed that way, but Peggy’s gear, though it was as supple as when it was new, looked as though it had been lashed with a white-hot whip. There was a scar that leapt across the elbow joint of one arm; the missing part was a permanent puckered welt on the inside of her arm, where the Thread had slipped through the joint and started to eat through her skin before she’d managed to shake it off, screaming. She’d stayed in the air for six hours after, and had barely been able to use that arm for weeks following.

In the moment, though, she didn’t allow herself to linger on that. The muscle memory was useful for getting into her gear with military efficiency, and she was down in the sands before most of the other riders.

Most of them. Daniel was already mounted, his bad leg strapped into the saddle while his dragon, a sweet-natured brown, twisted back to nose at him. He lifted a gloved hand to her before pulling his goggles down, and Peggy waved back.

“Oh for the love of—really, Dooley couldn’t come up with anyone else?” Ah, and there was Jack, strapping on his riding leathers while his skittish green lady flexed her wings under the arching ceiling.

“If you’ve a better candidate, feel free to name them,” Peggy retorted.

“Name him, you mean.”

“Have you, then?”

“This is a terrible idea,” Jack said, which was answer enough. That was fine. She’d always worked well with him on the wing, and that was all that mattered now. She could always strangle him once they were back on the ground. “When’s the last time you were even up in the air, Carter?”

“I’m sorry, I thought that Roger Dooley was the leader of this wing,” Peggy said. “Or have you suddenly become a bronze rider when I wasn’t looking?”

It was a low blow, and she could see it in the way Jack’s face twisted before he turned back toward his dragon, who arched her long neck down to butt at him. Peggy refused to feel bad about it. Jack Thompson’s touchy ego was not her problem right now.

The agitated blue dragon prancing at the far side of the cavern was. Setoth was small for a blue, built for speed rather than power, which had always struck Peggy as an odd match for the jocularly overbearing Krzeminski, but the bond was evidently true. She winced, hoping with real fervency for the first time that he'd pull through.

Peggy could ride, after all. But bonding with a dragon was another story. A bond broken by the death of half the pair would never properly heal—all that could be hoped for was a heavy callus to shield the hurt.

And that was precisely the sort of self-pitying morbid rumination that she didn’t need right now. She wouldn’t think of Kaleth falling from the sky, the bleak silence where before there had been a warm presence in her mind. About her own unlikely rescue from the water and the mindless incoherent weeks that followed.

She shook her head sharply, glad that Thompson was already occupied with strapping himself into the harness and thus not able to witness her falter, and approached Krzeminski’s riderless blue.

:All right, that’s quite enough of that: she sent sharply, cutting across the snarled tangle of fear and fury like a knife blade.

It was harsh, entirely too harsh, a jagged blade on an already wounded mind. Only a rider could have done it; no paired rider would have dared.

And Peggy, the last of the orphaned pairs left here at the Weir—one of the few left at all who was anything approaching sane—she planted her feet on the sand, her fingers digging into the leather of her helmet as the furious blue dragon mantled like a bird of prey—and then subsided.

:There we are: Peggy sent, sliding her helmet on as she approached. Setoth mantled again, restlessly, then ducked his head down, watching her with a wary golden eye as she approached. :Your bondmate will heal: she sent more gently, hoping very much that it was true. :For now we have work to do.:

#agent carter #peggy carter #my fic

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imjustthemechanic · 3 years

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The Price of a Soul

Part 1/? - Agent Russel Part 2/? - The Letter Part 3/? - Miss Lake Part 4/? - The Stewardess

Miss Lake has been spotted on her way to New York, and by the time she gets there, Peggy thinks she has figured out why.

Peggy found it very difficult to sleep properly the next few nights. She would toss and turn, with the bedclothes coming free of the mattress and her curlers coming loose in her hair, as she puzzled over the situation and tried to figure out what it all meant.

Based on Lake’s techniques it seemed clear enough that she had come from the same place as Dottie – a facility that trained women from childhood to be perfect, undetectable spies. Evidently, it worked, since Peggy had now fallen for it twice. That being the case, it seemed clear enough that Lake’s mission was to locate Dottie and… and do what? The Soviet government had already denied all knowledge of her and made it clear that they didn’t want her back. Dottie didn’t seem to want to go back, most likely because she knew she’d be executed at once and nobody would shed a tear for her.

Either way, Dottie would be no longer be the SSR’s problem. That might be a good thing, except for the part where Soviet agents were operating on US soil apparently at will. People like Masters, and now Governor Strieber in Nevada with the mob breathing down his neck, already thought the SSR was unnecessary in peacetime, or even actively doing more harm than good. Capturing Dottie would be a way to demonstrate that they weren’t useless and could correct their mistakes. But to capture Dottie they might first have to capture Lake.

And then, apparently just because all that wasn’t enough of a bloody headache, there were the numbers.

What else could they be, if not the location of the Valkyrie? There wasn’t much else up in that part of Canada besides the occasional polar bear. The most obvious explanation seemed to be it was some kind of trick or trap, a distraction, a piece of psychological torture – which it definitely was – but what if? If the Russians did know where Steve’s body was, had they already retrieved it? During the war other countries had certainly been working on their own super-soldiers. The Geneva Convention had condemned such experiments as inhumane, but that certainly wasn’t enough to stop some people.

She was going to need a strong cup of tea in the morning if she were going to be good for anything.

How had she been so stupid? The FBI didn’t employ female agents – posing as one had merely played to Peggy’s sympathies. And she’d already known that Lake was an actress. She’d been doing MacBeth when Peggy walked in and Rose had even said she wasn’t terrible. When Daniel had told her Strieber had called in the FBI she should have asked for the agent’s name then and there, but she’d been too annoyed. If she’d known to expect Nedrick instead of Nadine she could have arrested the woman at once!

Why had she given Peggy the telephone number for a place she actually was staying? Had she really expected Peggy to get in touch with her? Was she supposed to have found the envelope and rung her hours earlier?

Not that it mattered now… by now Lake was surely long-gone. If she’d heard that they’d found the real Agent Russel, she’d probably left the country. The only way they’d find her now was an incredible stroke of luck, and Peggy knew better than to hope for that.

Two days after searching Lake’s apartment, however, Peggy got one.

She arrived at work, and Agent Sato immediately stood up. “Carter!” he called out. “The Chief wants to see you in his office.”

Brilliant, Peggy thought… absolutely tremendous. What more could be added to this palaver? “Thank you, Sato, I’ll be right there.”

She set her purse on her desk and her briefcase beside it, and went and knocked on Daniel’s door.

At this point she would have thought nothing could surprise her anymore, but it was a genuine shock when Daniel answered with a smile on his face. “Good news, Peg,” he said.

“What, really?” she asked.

“We have a sighting!” He let her in. “I got a call from the New York office – a man saw the poster of Miss Lake and recognized it. He says she was a stewardess on his flight from Chicago yesterday.”

It sounded too good to be true but damned if Peggy wouldn’t take it. “From Chicago to where?”

“New York City,” Daniel said.

Peggy paused. “Does that mean Dottie’s in New York?”

“That’s what Thompson thinks. He’s asked for you.”

That was a second surprise. “Thompson asked for me?” Peggy said, not sure she’d heard right. Jack Thompson considered Peggy a humiliation waiting to happen… whenever he thought he was onto something big his first reaction was to push her out of the way so she couldn’t get involved. That was how she’d ended up in Los Angeles in the first place and she doubted anybody had ever been happier to sign transfer papers than he. Now he wanted her help?

“He said to tell you that you’re the expert on these Russian girls. Also that he’s still sore, and his wife doesn’t think he should be back to work at all yet,” said Daniel. “What he told me is that we know Miss Underwood considers you a personal rival, and…”

“And he wants to use me as bait,” Peggy finished for him. Now, that sounded more like Thompson. “Well, you be sure to tell him he can call upon my expertise anytime. Do you have my ticket?”

“It’s waiting for you at the airport,” Daniel replied.

“I’ll pack a bag and be on my way,” she promised.

Daniel nodded. “When I came in today, I was thinking it had been a while since we had a date and with all that’s going on it might help you relax.”

“I’ll take a rain check,” Peggy promised, and kissed him quickly before hurrying out. In the door, however, she hesitated. “Has anyone heard from Agent Russel?”

“No,” said Daniel. “We assumed he’d been taken off the case.”

“So did he,” Peggy replied.

It had only been a couple of weeks since Peggy’s formal transfer to the West Coast had gone through… she had certainly not expected she’d be heading back to New York so soon after finally clearing her things out of Howard’s house. Angie would be happy to see her, and perhaps they’d be able to have lunch together…

But mostly what consumed her thoughts as the propellers roared into takeoff was the question of why Lake would have gone to New York.

Of course, the fact that she’d been on the flight didn’t necessarily mean that was her destination. She could have been on her way to Canada, or Europe, or just about anywhere except Australia, really. Unless she thought her quarry were there, there wasn’t much reason for her to stop in New York City. That was clearly Thompson’s theory, but if he were wrong they might ultimate accomplish nothing.

Was there another reason for her to go to New York? What was in New York that the Soviets might be interested in, besides the SSR itself?

The answer came to her, and she sat up straight. “Fenhoff!”

The man in the seat next to her, who’d been snoozing with a newspaper over his head, twitched. “Gezundheit,” he muttered before settling down again.

Of course, Peggy thought… Fenhoff was the one who’d hired Dottie under false pretenses. He was a major part of the reason why the Americans even knew the Russian women were operatives. He’d done irreparable harm to their national security for the sake of a personal grudge. It was supposed to be a secret where he was being held, but that didn’t mean it actually was. He was in Sing Sing, just up the Hudson River from New York City. If anything, they had even more reason to want him dead than they did Dottie. They would never have lost control of her if not for him.

She checked her watch. Still over an hour until their next landing, when she’d be able to telephone Daniel and tell him.

Her layover was brief, but she did just barely have time to find a pay phone and pass her theory on to Daniel. He promised to pass it on to Thompson and she got back on the plane feeling much less antsy. Not that she felt any great love for Fenhoff himself, but the government wanted to keep him alive, and if it helped her catch Lake and Dottie, well… maybe Thompson had the right idea. Bait.

When the plane finally landed in New York, the SSR had a car there waiting for Peggy. She tossed her suitcase in the back and climbed in – Thompson was in the back seat. Peggy took the place next to him and said, “Fenhoff.”

“Sousa already called me,” Thompson assured her. “We’re arranging to beef up security around the place but we’re not gonna make a show of it. We don’t want to tip Lake off.”

Peggy nodded – it was nice to be taken seriously, although she had to wonder whether Daniel had mentioned it was Peggy’s idea. As the car pulled away to drive to her hotel, she couldn’t resist a dig. “Well, Miss Underwood may not be in town, but it’s lucky I’m still the expert.”

“You can think like they do,” said Thompson, as if agreeing with her. “That’s what we need right now.”

Thompson had never been shy about the belief that women were basically illogical creatures. He would never even try to get into one’s head. “You mean I’m… underhanded and duplicitous?” Peggy asked innocently.

“You’ve fooled all of us more than once,” Thompson pointed out.

He did have a point there. Peggy decided to consider it a compliment. “How’s your war wound?” she asked, referring to the time Thompson had been shot in a hotel room.

Thompson grimaced. “Sally’s still treating me like an invalid. She thinks this would be a great time for me to get an office job. Something where I don’t get shot at.”

“I hope you told her the SSR would be lost without you,” said Peggy.

He gave her a sideways look. “Was that sarcasm, Carter?”

“Of course not!” Peggy changed the subject. “I assume somebody has already called and checked with Sing Sing?”

“Fenhoff’s still in his cell and very much alive,” Thompson replied. “We also interviewed some of the other passengers and crew from the flight.”

“And?”

“They all agree that the sketch from Russel’s description looks like the stewardess. The pilot told me one of the girls who was supposed to be working the flight got a call from the police in her hometown to say her husband had been arrested, so this other lady took her shift. None of them had ever seen her before but they didn’t care as long as she did the job.”

“None of them will ever see her again, I’m sure,” Peggy said. “Any sightings of Dottie?”

“None that we know of.”

“I see.” So unless she really were on her way somewhere else, Fenhoff was the only reason Peggy knew of for Lake to be in New York. The next few nights were going to be a series of long, tired, boring stake-outs, but it wasn’t as if Peggy would have been sleeping anyway.

Once she was settled into her hotel room, Peggy made a couple more telephone calls. One was to Angie, to let her know she was in town and that the two of them could get together and catch up once she knew her schedule better. Then she did her best to catch a few hours of sleep, knowing full well she’d be up the entire night.

This went better than she’d expected – rather than rolling around squirming as she thought of the missed opportunities, she nodded off quickly and napped for a couple of hours, waking up groggy but at least having had the rest. It must be because she felt as if they were getting somewhere, she thought. The idea that Lake would be after Fenhoff was only a theory at this point, but it was a good theory, one that allowed her to take some action. She combed her hair and got dressed in practical trousers with her holster under her jacket, and met the car that would be taking her up to Sing Sing.

“You owe me one, Marge,” said Thompson, as Peggy climbed into another car with him. “The prison’s only got a few girls working for them, mostly nurses and laundry, but they’ve sent them all home until further notice so this Kay can’t slip in among them. They didn’t even want you there but I convinced them we needed you.”

“I’ll remember that,” Peggy promised.

“We’ll have men at all the exits,” Thompson went on, “but I’m gonna put you right next to Fenhoff’s cell. Should be no way she can get that far.”

“Should be.” But if she did, Peggy thought, Miss Lake was going to find herself with quite a bit of explaining to do. Hopefully before turning her over to the men, Peggy could get an opportunity to ask about those bloody numbers.

#fanfic #captain america #agent carter #peggy carter #steve rogers #steggy #fix it fic

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schrijverr · 3 years

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'Till Death Do Us Part

Part 5 out of 13

When Alex has to bring Philip to work, he and Thomas discover that they both have something in common: they lost their love. They form an unexpected bond and connection about this that grows into something more.

A medium burn with parental feelings about Philip and flowers.

On AO3.

Ships: Jamilton

Warnings: brief mentions of death.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 5: Mossy Saxifrage Means ‘Affection’

Alex was panicking as he went through his closet as Herc tried to help, while Laf was just lounging on his bed and complaining: “I mean, really, Alexandre? First, Thomas doesn’t tell me about his crush, then you leave me out as well and then I have to find out from a movie night where everyone was already aware, except for me. I’m hurt.”

“That’s not true, Laf. Pip didn’t know. And Peggy,” Alex tried to mollify the Frenchman as he held up a shirt to Herc, who finally nodded.

“Well, from the way he talked about Mr. Thomas, they were familiar,” Laf pouted.

“Oh for fucks sake, Laf, I’m sorry, okay? I’ll buy you dinner,” Alex exploded slightly, the stress about the date rearing his head, “Now, Herc green lighted this outfit. What do you think?”

Lafayette looked over and inspected Alex’s outfit. He was wearing black skinny jeans with a white dress shirt tucked in them, over that he had a slightly oversized emerald green – his signature color – knitted sweater and his hair was down.

“Mon petit lion, I had almost forgotten how well you sweep up,” Lafayette smiled.

“We both know you’re not that bad at English. You know it’s clean,” Alex said with an eyeroll, but there was a smile there as well with the approval for his outfit.

“You look good, dude,” Herc assured him again when he twirled for the mirror, checking his outfit again.

“Thanks, I just haven’t done this in a while,” Alex replied, “Fuck, I’m so scared.”

“It’ll be fine, mon ami. Thomas thinks highly of you. He will love the date, I promise,” Lafayette soothed Alex’s doubts, “You can do this. You have a plan, stick with it and you’ll have an amazing date and then the ball will be in his court and it will be out of your hands.”

“What if he likes me, but doesn’t want to commit to Pip?” Alex worried, he didn’t know why he was making himself more stressed.

“Were you there with movie night?” Herc chuckled, “The dude loves Philip.”

“God, I know, I’m just making up ways in which this can go wrong.” Alex sighed, taking himself in once more, fiddling with his watch.

“Well, do that later, you have a date to go to,” Herc said, pointing to the clock.

Alex cursed, quickly pulling on shoes and checking if he had everything with him, before putting on his coat and asking: “Is it really not weird that I don’t have flowers?”

“Non, you said yourself, the flowers from Monday will still be pretty,” Laf said and there was something knowing in those eyes that calmed his nerves.

“Alright, let’s do this,” Alex hyped himself up.

As he left Laf called out: “Me and Herc will be waiting here and we want all the details when you get back. Hope you’re not attached to your wine.”

Alex laughed at his antics, before getting into the car and driving to Thomas’s place, feeling slightly jittery, but also excited as fuck.

This time he could better appreciate the porch with the white woodwork, though he was more distracted by the waiting for Thomas to show up. After a moment, he did, greeting Alex with a shy smile: “Hi, Alex. You look great.”

“I could say the same to you,” Alex replied, and it was true. Thomas was wearing a light gray suit with a magenta dress shirt, you would say he was slightly overdressed if you weren’t aware of his usual extravagant style.

“You ready to go?”Alex asked.

“Oh, wait,” Thomas said, confusing Alex as Thomas briskly walked back into the house and returned a few moments later thrusting out his hands, but not meeting Alex’s eyes, “These are for you.”

He handed Alex a beautiful bouquet of pink and white flowers and Alex gasped. It had been a while since he’d gotten flowers from someone and the flowers were absolutely beautiful.

“The flowers are dogwood, milk vetch, mugwort, pink white and mossy saxifrage,” Thomas told him, slight flush on his face, “They reminded me of you, uhm- hope that’s okay?”

“Thank you so much, Thomas. They’re beautiful,” Alex told him and the smile he got from Thomas was so wide it enhanced the crinkles Alex adored. He shook himself out of the staring and asked: “You ready to go?” as he offered his arm.

Thomas took it with an eye roll and a smirk as he bumped their shoulder together: “Dork.”

“Ah, live to please,” Alex grinned, before holding the car door open for Thomas to climb in, before taking his seat behind the wheel and driving off to their destination.

It was a small but cozy restaurant that Alex knew, to which he had decided to take Thomas. The food was made to feel home-y, not fancy and Alex had loved it every since he’dfirst set foot into the little building with checkered wallpaper and wooden furniture.

Once they had gotten through the usual hustle of getting a table and ordering, they sat quietly in front of each other, neither really knowing how to start.

“God, this is so awkward,” Alex grinned after a while.

“I know,” Thomas chuckled in agreement.

“It’s like, I already know you so well, I have no clue what to talk about,” Alex snickered, finding lightheartedness in their mutual embarrassment.

“Exactly, I can’t really go, ‘so, what you do for a living?’” Thomas joked, sending Alex into a fit of giggles.

“Who’s the dork now?” he said in lieu of an answer.

The tension had broken with that and conversation flowed more easily. Thomas asked Alex about his latest essay on his blog, which ended up in a discussion about whether Thomas would make a good president.

They didn’t order any alcohol, Alex as the driver and Thomas in solidarity and because the restaurant mostly served beer and Thomas wasn’t that fond of beer.

Naturally when he stated that, they ended up in a discussion about alcoholic beverages – Alex laughing at Thomas when he called them that, claiming it sounded so dry – and which ones they preferred and why they were good.

When the meal was done, Alex insisted he’dpay, telling Thomas that if he wanted to pay so bad he would have to ask Alex out. Giving Thomas a cheeky grin.

He led Thomas out of the restaurant, but didn’t lead him to his car, instead he walked down the other way.

“Where are we going?” Thomas asked.

“You just have to wait and see, don’t you?” Alex smiled, holding out his hand and cocking his brow questioningly.

Thomas took it and asked: “Not even a hint?”

“It will be very cliché,” Alex told him, then grinned, “A little birdy told me, you can be very cliché.”

A flush overtook Thomas’s features as he groaned: “Have you been talking to Angie?”

Alex laughed at him and answered: “Of course, I did. You talk to her too though, I bet she has dirt on everyone. God, I don’t think I even want to know what she has on me, I knew her in college, no one is great in college.”

Now it was Thomas’s turn to laugh as he bumped their shoulder together, while he teased: “I’ll remember to ask her about it.”

“Shut up,” Alex rolled his eyes, before leading Thomas into a little park that was next to the water, looking out over the sea. Alex beamed at Thomas as he started walking slightly faster, tugging the taller man with him as he said: “Keep up slow poke.”

Thomas, who had just been murdered by Alex’s smile, just walked along dumbly, staring more at Alex than their destination.

“I was scared we wouldn’t make it with the dinner, but the days have really been getting longer,” Alex sounded relieved as he leaned on the fence, looking out over the sea.

Although it was hard, Thomas tore his gaze away from Alex to see what he was watching. Over the water the sun had started to set, beautiful colors painting the sky crimson and pink, reflecting in the water.

“Wow,” Thomas gasped.

Alex felt pride blooming in his chest when it seemed Thomas had liked his idea for their date and he contended himself with alternating between watching Thomas and the fading light.

When he glanced over again, Thomas met his eyes before he slowly leaned towards Alex. Every second seemed to last an eternity, but when they touched it was as if the moment had passed in a flash, barely longer than a blink and suddenly their lips had met.

The kiss was sweet.

Despite the fact that they had been dancing around each other for so long, there was no desperation in the kiss, just an affirmation that the other was there and close. A reminder that this moment was real and they were not alone.

They pulled back when air became a necessity and for a moment they just stared at each other, softly panting.

Then Alex smiled softly and Thomas immediately returned it as he said: “Thank you for asking me on this date, it’s perfect.”

Alex smile got bigger as it practically lit up his face, he replied: “I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself. I must say, I’m having a grand time as well.”

“That’s good,” Thomas whispered, leaning in closer again.

“Yeah,” Alex breathed, before closing the gap again, neither of them aware of the last beams of light the sun still send their way.

When they were getting cold after the suns departure, they left the park, walking back to the car through busy streets. Alex drove them home and walked Thomas to his doorstep, once they arrived they turned to each other quite uncertain of how to proceed.

“I meant it when I said it was perfect,” Thomas said, “And I- uhm, well, I’d love to take you out sometime, if- if you’re willing, of course.”

“I’d love nothing more,” Alex replied.

“Good, good,” Thomas mumbled more to himself, unsure of how to go inside without it being awkward.

“Would it be brash for me to request a goodbye kiss before you enter?” Alex asked, his flirty nature and boldness coming out when he saw Thomas’s unsure look.

Thomas smiled, obviously relieved, as he said: “Sure,” before leaning down to capture Alex’s lips.

This kiss was brief, Thomas leaning back before things could go further, though he did lean back infor a soft peck before he truly broke it off and turned his keys.

“I’ll see you Monday?” Alex said, phrasing a truth they both knew as a question.

“Yeah, see you Monday,” Thomas nodded, before closing the door.

Alex had to stop himself from jumping excitedly, his body filled with emotions after tonight. He walked to his car instead and drove home, knowing he would be able to let it all out against Herc and Laf, who were waiting for him.

He was not disappointed, because the moment he turned his keys the two were at the door, Laf ripping it open before Alex had the chance to do it himself.

“How did it go?” Laf asked excitedly.

“It was great,” Alex couldn't have stopped the grin that split his face in half even if he had tried.

“Tell us everything,” Herc pulled him along to the kitchen and forced him into a chair, giving him a glass of water to keep his throat functioning as he recounted the evening in full detail.

“Okay, so I picked him up and he had flowers for me,” Alex held up the flowers and his two friends gasped over them, before Laf took them gently to set them in water.

“Thomas said they’re dogwood, milk vetch, mugwort, uhm, pink white and mossy saxifrage,” Alex told them. Alex was planning to look up their meaning later. He wouldn’t put it past Thomas to make the bouquet have some meaning, especially since he had looked up the meaning of cornflowers for him.

“How adorable,” Laf clapped his hands.

“It was, he was all blushy about it,” Alex gushed and the other two ahw-ed.

“What did he think of the restaurant?” Herc asked, it had been Herc who had first discovered the little place back in college and they all had fond memories there.

“I think he liked it,” Alex replied, “He ordered Mac-’N-Cheese and said it was good. Do you think he was lying?”

He turned to Laf, who assured him: “He’s not lying, mon ami. Thomas loves Mac-’N-Cheese, he will tell you when it’s not up to his standards, I promise.”

“Okay, okay,” Alex nodded, sudden worry soothed.

“What did you two talk about?” Herc asked, distracting him from his thoughts.

“Uhm, Thomas asked about my blog and I was recently writing about how presidential candidates are chosen and the inherent prejudices in the process and- well, anyway, it’s not important, but the conversation ended up about whether or not Thomas would make for a good president,” Alex answered.

“Of course you talked about politics on your first date,” Herc groaned.

“Hey, in my defense, he asked about my blog and we’ve been talking politics since before we were even friends.”

“Tell me you at least said something nice to him about it,” Laf said.

“Yeah, I told him I would vote for him,” Alex assured them with a grin, “Did I have you worried there?”

Herc shoved him and called him an asshole, before Alex went on about the rest of dinner and how nice it had been.

“He’s such a good conversationalist,” he gushed about Thomas, “He seems to know something about everything. We talked about wines, for example, and he just has knowledge about that, like he’s functioning adult.”

“Man, sometimes I worry about you,” Herc told him.

“Live to please,” Alex shot back, before returning to his subject, “And when he’s passionate about something, his eyes do this thing where they light up,” he was gesturing while he spoke, “and then he smiles and it shows off his teeth and I go fucking soft.”

“I can see that, mon ami,” Lafayette grinned when Alex got a dopey expression as he talked about Thomas, “It’s nice to see you so happy about someone.”

Alex stopped at that, then tentatively smiled: “It’s good to feel happy about someone again. It’s also a bit weird, like I’m betraying John. I know it’s not, but, you know.”

The others nodded and Herc gathered Alex up into a hug, which Lafayette joined as fast as he could manage. They stood like that for a moment, before Alex tightly said: “I’m good, I’m good now. Thanks.”

“No problem, mon ami,” Laf said.

“Yeah, dude, anytime,” Herc agreed.

Alex smiled at them, before clearing his throat and taking a sip of water. Then he said: “I took him to the park by the water and we watched the sunset.”

“I told you, you would make it,” Laf said triumphantly.

Rolling his eyes, Alex replied: “Yeah, yeah, I know, I know, I should have trusted you.”

“Screw that, was it romantic?” Herc asked.

“Very, his eyes were shining and the sun made him glow like and angel and it was just so incredibly pretty and then we kissed and that-”

“You kissed!?!” the two screamed.

Alex blushed a bright red as he nodded. He whispered: “It wasn’t a filthy kiss or anything, just sweet. His lips are very soft.”

At the end he was barely audible and Lafayette squished his cheeks: “You are so adorable, mon petit lion. I was to scream.”

“Was he a good kisser?” Herc asked, breaking the moment.

“Herc!” Alex whined scandalized.

“Come on, Alexandre, he can’t have been that bad,” Lafayette teased.

“He wasn’t,” Alex was so red, it looked like he was about to explode, “He was a really good kisser, can we now please not talk about this.”

“Oh, non, you kept your crush from me, now I want all the details,” Lafayette told him with a glint in his eyes.

“What do you even want me to tell you?” Alex threw his hands up.

“Was there tongue?” Herc asked.

“Come on, I thought you were on my side,” Alex pouted.

“Well, you thought wrong. Now, tongue: yes or no?” Herc demanded.

“You guys are mean.”

“And you should know better by now, mon ami.”

It was quiet for a beat, then it became apparent that they weren’t gonna let this go, so Alex just sighed: “There was a bit of tongue.”

“Eyyy.” “Get it, man!”

“I hate you both.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Yes, I do.” It was silent. “God dammit, no, I don’t.”

“There he is again,” Herc smiled.

“But it was nothing like that, it was sweet and chaste- well, not chaste, but that was the vibe it had. It was innocent and you keep your dirty minds away from it,” Alex told them.

“Oehh, not chaste,” Lafayette waggled his eyebrows, while Herc smirked: “You have the dirtiest mind out of all of us, kitty.”

“You will not speak a word about that cat, he has ruined my life,” Alex threatened.

“That’s a fun story to tell Thomas,” Laf grinned evilly and Alex shrieked: “You will do no such thing!”

“Ruin sport.”

“You know it is spoil sport, Laf, I will not let you use this as an excuse for getting out of this. It hasn’t worked in years,” Alex deadpanned.

“Worth a try, most still believe the accent,” Lafayette shrugged.

“Back to the topic at hand, people,” Herc called their attention, “We’re still at the romantic kissing near the water during a sunset and I want to know what happened next.”

“Nothing happened next,” Alex told them, flushing slightly as he remembered Thomas’s genuine face as he thanked him for asking him out. God, if only that man knew what he did to Alex, fuck, he was screwed.

“Your face doesn’t look like nothing,” Herc teased.

“Stay away from my face,” Alex shot back, “Nothing happened.”

“Ahww, come on, petit lion, tell us,” Laf pleaded.

“I swear, nothing happened,” Alex said, then he mumbled, “He just said he loved the date and then kissed me again.”

Lafayette squealed: “God you two are so cute, I love living vicariously through you.”

“You’re an idiot,” Alex informed him, but he was smiling fondly at his friend’s antics. It was nice to be able to gush to them about his date.

“What happened then?” Herc really wanted all the details.

“Nothing really, I drove us home, walked him to the front door and got a goodnight kiss,” Alex shrugged, fully aware that his nonchalance was being undermined by a blush.

Herc whistled: “Three kisses in one night, you doing good, ‘Lexi.”

Alex grinned and sighed dreamily: “Yeah, it was good.”

He was snapped out of it by Lafayette, who was really pinching his cheek like he was a grandmother and Alex his grandchild. Alex pushed the hand away and glared at the Frenchman menacingly, though it had lost all effect throughout the years.

So, completely unbothered, Laf pulled away and poured them all a glass of wine, before he said: “I say we watch soap opera’s.”

“Sure, Laf,” Alex gave in easily, the excitement had died down and he was now tired. Tomorrow he would pick up Philip, who was staying with Eliza and Maria and tell Eliza everything again, but for now he was content to sit and watch shitty TV.

The next morning, after he had kicked out Herc and Laf, he quickly googled his bouquet, before driving to Eliza to tell her everything and give Philip a hug.

When he arrived at their house Maria opened. He smiled at her: “Ah, Misses Schuyler, I hope Pip was on his best behavior.”

“Always, Alex, here come in,” she sidestepped so that he could enter and yelled: “Philip, your Papa is here.”

Little footsteps raced down the hall and soon Alex had his arms full of talking now already six-year-old: “Papa, me and Auntie Maria and Auntie Eliza watched a movie about a lady who was a nanny and she had an umbrella and-”

“You watched Mary Poppins, buddy?” Alex asked before he had to listen to an entire rundown of a movie he already knew.

The boy nodded and said: “The music was very fun and Auntie Eliza said it was a disgrace I hadn’t seen it. I now know a new word, disgrace. Isn’t that cool, Papa?”

“Very cool, buddy,” Alex smiled, “ Were you nice to your Aunties?”

“The nicest, Papa,” Philip promised.

“Good to hear.”

“In fact this kid was so good that Maria offered to take him to the pool with her and a few of the other kids,” Eliza said, walking into the hallway, “I know how you feel about water, but he was so excited about it.”

It seemed she had jogged Philip’s memory, because the boy suddenly pleaded: “Oh, yes, please, Papa. It will be so much fun and I have the swimpants Uncle Laf gave me, with the pirates and it will be totally safe because Auntie Maria will be there. Please, Papa, please.”

Alex had already made up his mind, but pretended to think about it, before he faked a sigh: “Okay, I guess you can go, but only if you promise to eat ice cream with me after.”

Philip cheered and jumped up, Alex barely managing to catch him as the boy babbled his thanks and pinky promised to eat ice cream with his Papa afterwards.

He rushed up the stairs the moment Alex had let him go with Maria rushing after him to make sure he would be okay, only stopping to plan a kiss on Eliza’s cheek when she passed.

With them gone Eliza turned to Alex with a grin: “So, am I going to get a rundown of the entire night as well, Mr. Hamilton?”

Alex blushed and answered: “If you want to, yes please. Though maybe when Philip is gone.”

“Oh, went that well,” Eliza smirked.

“No, no, nothing like that. Honestly, I don’t know why Angie and Peggy think you’re the innocent one, really,” he told her.

“It’s the baby face and the fact that I did nothing in High School because I thought I was straight, but boys scared me,” she said with a grin. He already knew that, so he just rolled her eyes at her instead of gracing her with an answer.

At that point Philip and Maria got back downstairs, dressed to go to the swimming pool. He yelled: “Papa, look, Auntie Maria has pool noodles!”

“Wow, Pip, that’s great,” Alex attempted to match the boy’s enthusiasm.

“Auntie Maria says she going to teach me how to swim, but she also says I get to play and we’re going to jump into the water and one of the kids has water pistols,” Philip was getting breathless in the only way small excited children could get.

“But we can’t do that unless we get this stuff into the car, sweetheart,” Maria interrupted the boy, “You look strong, could you carry it for me?”

“Yes, I can,” Philip nodded quickly and hurried to the unlocked car.

When he was gone Alex said: “Thank you, Maria, you’re lifesaver. I know I should be teaching him how to swim at this age, but...” he trailed off and shuddered.

“I know, Alex, don’t worry about it,” Maria smiled at him, patting his cheek before telling Philip to say goodbye to Papa, while she put away the last of their stuff.

With Philip hugging Alex and Eliza and Maria pecking Eliza on the cheek and waving at Alex, they were off. Eliza and Alex waited until they were on the street, before Eliza pulled Alex into the house and made him coffee, sitting him down on their couch with glee.

Once they were both settled she asked: “So? How did it go?”

“He got me flowers,” Alex blurted it out and Eliza cooed, before he pushed on, “Fuck he gave me flowers and I looked up their meaning, because I told him the meaning of the flowers I gave him and I wouldn’t put it past him to do it back, especially because he told me which flowers it was and just- fuck.”

“Wanna tell me what they meant?”

“I think my heart will burst if I do, ‘Liza, I’m too queer and soft for this.”

“Now you’re just making me curious, spill.”

“Okay, so,” Alex started counting on his fingers, “he got me dogwood, which means durability. Milk vetch, which is your presence softens my pain, like holy fuck, with everything that’s just like- damn. Mugwort, which means happiness, like I don’t need a functioning brain, am I right? White pink means ingeniousness and talent, that’s a big fucking compliment from him. But then the one that takes the cake, he gave me mossy saxifrage and that means affection. Affection. I think he likes me.”

“Alexander, you dumb fuck, of course he likes you.”

“I know, but still,” Alex whined.

“Ahw, you’re so cute.”

“Now you sound like Laf. He terrorized me last night, he and Herc together. They’re so mean to me, ‘Liza, so mean.”

“Well, then I’m mean too. Don’t leave me hanging here, I’m having lunch with Angie tomorrow and I need details.”

“What is it with all my friends using me for entertainment?” Alex asked rhetorically.

“Dramaqueen,” Eliza rolled his eyes, “Come on, if you’re nice I’ll ask Angie if Thomas told her anything about your date.”

“Really?” Alex perked up immediately. It wasn’t that he hadn’t believed Thomas when he said the date was perfect, it was just that he needed a lot more validation, preferably a full yelp review or a seventh grade book review.

“Really,” Eliza promised, “Now spill.”

So Alex did, he had been planning on it anyway, looking forwards to it actually, so he didn’t spare the details. Where Herc and Laf teased him, Eliza listened and asked questions, it was different with her, though with his other friends had been nice as well.

He and Eliza gossiped together, they had started the tradition when they were dating and never stopped, he knew he could say anything to her without it every reaching anyone’s ears or getting judged for it.

“I really like him, Betsy, and it scares me how much I already like him,” he confessed softly after he had finished telling her everything.

“Why does it scare you, ‘Lexi?” she asked softly.

Alex thought about it for a moment, he already had his suspicions, but he had purposely not thought about it.

“I think-” he started, “I think I’m just scared that he doesn’t like me as much as I like him and that I am going to get my heart broken in a different way, but all over again. I don’t know, he just-” a sigh, “he could do so much better than me.”

“Oh, Alexander,” Eliza sighed, putting her cup down to hug him closely, “You’re a catch, honey. If he isn’t blind, he’ll see how good you are, truly.”

“You really think so?” he asked.

“Yes, I really think so. And from what I’ve heard he really likes you too,” Eliza assured him.

“But it’s going so fast, Betsy,” Alex protested, “I haven’t looked at anyone since John’s death and the first time I’m actually interested in someone it all goes well? And I’m just supposed to believe that I’m that lucky?”

“After all your rotten luck, the universe owes you some,” Eliza sounded dark for a moment and Alex was glad she had his back. He would hate to have her as an enemy, she was scary.

She ran a hand through his hair and said: “But, really, Alex, if this pace feels right, then it feels right. From what I’ve heard you’ve been dancing around each other for about half a year, liking someone on the first date is usually good.”

“God, you’re right,” Alex groaned into her shoulder.

“I’m always right, Alex, when will you learn that,” she told him with a grin.

He huffed amused at that and swiftly agreed: “I will try to remember,” then he untangled himself from her hold and soft said: “Really, Betsy, thank you for listening, you’re the best.”

“I did it with love,” she smiled and he knew she meant it, God she was too good for the world sometimes.

“But enough about me, it feels like I haven’t heard from you in forever. How’s it going?” he changed the subject.

“It’s going great,” she smiled, “Me and Maria are working hard at the orphanage and it’s really going well. We still have some issues, but that’s unavoidable. But most of the kids are settling in okay.”

“That’s good to hear,” Alex told her, content to listen as she talked about her life for a while, with him just having to pay attention and ask questions. It was familiar and relaxing.

After catching up all morning, they made lunch together and walked through the park near Eliza’s home, talking about everything and nothing. When they got home it was around three and Maria said she and Philip would be home around three thirty.

Their arrival was punctuated by Philip yelling: “Papa, Papa, I jumped of the plank and it was very scary, but also cool and Auntie Maria made a video and it was the bestest!”

His hair was still kind of wet, but Alex didn’t care as he allowed the kid to scramble up onto his lap when he hugged him: “Wow, buddy, that sounds amazing, you’re a very brave little man. I’m glad you and Auntie Maria had fun together.”

Philip beamed and started to tell Alex everything about his day with wild gestures, but honest eyes and a big smile.

Alex listened closely, he might not like the water himself, but he was glad his son had enjoyed himself. Besides, swimming was a good skill to have and he had been meaning to sign him up for swimming classes, it was just that he hadn’t wanted to go into the water himself and most classes encouraged parents to come with their kids for the first few classes.

He could ask one of the others to do it, but it would feel like he was dumping Pip on them. All of them were busy and he didn’t want to come across as a bad parent to the swimming teacher, which was a stupid reason, but it had still kept him from signing Philip up.

When the boy had recounted the entire day, Alex said: “ That sounds very fun, Pip. But if I remember correctly, you still have a promise to me to keep. So, say goodbye to your Aunties and thank them for their hospitality, okay?”

It seemed like Philip had just remembered the promised ice cream, because he lit up. He quickly turned to his Aunties and rushed: “Thank you Auntie Eliza and Auntie Maria for letting me have a sleep over and taking me to the swimming pool.”

Eliza smiled softly at Philip and hugged him as she said: “You were a pleasure to have, Pip. Now be nice to Papa.”

“I will,” he promised, before he was hugged by Maria.

“Hey, little swimmer, see you soon, alright?” she kissed him on the cheek.

“Can we go swimming again?” he asked.

“Of course, little man,” she promised and he beamed at her.

“Do you have all your stuff, Pip?” Alex asked him. He had already checked, but it was good to teach Philip to keep track of his stuff.

“Yes, Papa, me and Auntie Eliza checked in the morning before I went swimming,” Philip told him proudly.

“Oh, wow, good job, Pip,” Alex smiled, “You really deserve some ice cream now. Let’s go,” he was lead to the door and smiled, “Bye ‘Liza, thanks for today,” kissing her on the cheek, before doing the same with Maria, “Thanks for taking Pip swimming.”

“You know we don’t mind, ‘Lex,” Eliza told him again, “We’ll gladly spend the day with Pip.”

“Still, I am grateful each and every time,” Alex said sincerely, before he and Philip walked away with a wave and he had to focus on buckling Philip in properly.

They went to their favorite ice cream shop. Alex got vanilla and cookie while Philip got mint and chocolate.

While they were eating Philip asked: “Did you and Mr. Thomas have fun, Papa?”

Alex stopped for a moment and thought of what he wanted Philip to know, before he smiled: “Me and Mr. Thomas had lots of fun. I did miss you, though.”

“I missed you too, Papa.”

“Hey, how about you and me go play in the park tomorrow? How does that sound?” he asked. He and Pip usuallyspend each Saturday together, but today had been kind of different, so while usually Sundays were days on which they both did their own things at home, he could switch it up a bit to spend more time with Pip.

“Yeah!” Philip cheered.

“Then we’ll do that,” Alex smiled at Philip fondly as the latter smeared chocolate ice cream all over his little face.

After another moment of silent eating, Philip asked: “Will I get to see Mr. Thomas again? I made loads of drawings since I last saw him, I even drew him. Do you think he wants to see my art, Papa?”

Alex didn’t know how to answer that one. Yes, he and Thomas were moving up from friendship and if this went on, he would become more apparent in Philip’s life, but he didn’t want to force the man to hang out with his kid. Though, they both seemed to like each other.

“I’m sure he’ll be around again, Pip,” Alex finally decided to go with, “Maybe he can come again to movie night and you can show him then?”

That seemed to mollify Philip, who simply nodded and went back to eating his ice cream. Alex couldn't stop the smile if he wanted to. God, he really was lucky that he had Pip and that this thing with Thomas was happening.

Now, just he just had wait and see how it goes.

~~~~~~~

A/N:

I felt that this fic was lacking Philip content even though it started as a Philip and Papa Alex fic, so I went and rectified that a bit, because Philip is one of my favorites.

Also, Eliza and Alex friendship for the win and Alex’s friendship with Herc and Laf too. Like so many things are happening with so many characters it’s hard to get them all in there with the attention to their characterization they deserve.

Also, the bouquet, in case anyone wondered:

#RR writing #Hamilton #Hamilton AU #alexander hamilton #thomas jefferson #hercules mulligan #lafayatte #marquis de lafayette #eliza schuyler #philip hamilton #maria reynolds #tw: grief #'Till Death Do Us Part #'Till Death Do Us Part Part 5 #'Till Death Do Us Part AU

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musette22 · 4 years

Text

Fanfic Writers Tag Game

I was tagged by @hbalbat and @ixalit in this lovely fanfiction tag game that was devised by the clearly very brilliant @thewaythatwerust, to discuss some of the fics I’ve written over time! Thanks so much, guys! 💖

I have no idea who has already done this, but I’ll go ahead and tag @paper-storm, @luninosity, @wintersoldier1989, @bluesimplicity73, @howdoyousleep3, @wayward-lives, @trekchik and please feel totally free to ignore! <3

Which of your fics…

* Did you think would get a bigger reaction/audience than it got:

Hmm, maybe Body Politics? Generally speaking I think RPF AUs attract more readers than non-AU, and since everyone adores Political Daddy Chris, I figured this one could’ve done a little but better? Especially since I really like it myself (but then of course, that’s often how it goes isn’t it 😅)

* Got a better reaction than you expected:

Basically all of them! I never in a million years imagined that people would actually enjoy my writing, so every time I get a kudo on a fic I’m like “what, for real??” 🥰 But if I have to pic one, I guess From Brooklyn, With Love, since I wrote that one in one morning while at work and it did pretty well lol. Oh, and also my CAPBB fic from last year, Rare Is This Love (Keep It Covered), because I still can’t believe it did so well alongside the amazing fics from all the amazing authors who also participated in that bang.

* Is your funniest:

You Make My Heart Skip A Beet, I think. I’ve definitely gotten the most comments of people saying it cracked them up on that one! Or alternatively You lift my fucking spirits, bro, although that one is just a drabble. Still thinking of turning it into a proper fic at some point...

* Is your darkest/angstiest:

LOL none of them are particularly angsty. I’m not great with writing angst 😅 But for Stucky, it would probably be Rare Is This Love again, and for Evanstan maybe Closer? Yeah, I think so.

* Is your absolute favourite:

Ugh okay, if I *have* to answer this one, I’ll say it’s There is a Tavern in the Town, because that one allowed me to combine my love for Evanstan and Stucky and it’s not perfect, but it’s very close to my heart. Oh, and also I Really Can't Stay (Baby, It's Cold Outside) because I LOVE co-authoring with my gorgeous wife @paper-storm and I still feel all warm and fuzzy inside whenever I think about this fic 🥰

Honourable mention for Reckless Serenade, since it’s the filthiest thing I’ve ever written and I love it.

* Is your least favourite:

That’s hard, too lol. I guess maybe Café Rouge, not because I dislike the fic but because it’s Peggy/Angie and I wrote it for a femslash challenge, but I don’t really ship it? Or, I mean, I ship it, but not in the same way I ship Stucky and Evanstan, you know?

* Was the easiest to write:

I guess maybe Strawberries & Cream or Diving In The Deep End, both of which I wrote really quickly because I just had to get those little scenes I had stuck in my head down onto paper!

* Was the hardest to write:

Probably also Café Rouge, because I wasn’t as driven by my passion for the ship as I normally am! That, or Rare Is This Love (again) because I really struggled to make the deadline on that one and that was not fun 😂

* Have you re-read the most:

That would be my fist ever fic, I've done some things that I shouldn't have done (but I haven't stopped loving you once), because I was terrified it was rubbish and I kept re-reading it to see if I could improve it hahaha. Also (If Paradise Is) Half as Nice, because I think it’s hawt.

* Would you recommend to someone reading your work for the first time:

I did actually recommend There is a Tavern in the Town to one of my uni friends when she found out I wrote fanfiction and wanted to read some of it. In hindsight, maybe I’d recommend Maybe Baby (I'll Have You) now, because that one is non-RPF, more or less PG and kind of cute haha.

* Are you most proud of:

I think I Spy With My Little Eye, just because SO many people have told me how much they love it, and that’s kind of what you write for, isn’t it? And I don’t mean validation necessarily (although that is GREAT lol), but to give other people something they enjoy! 💗

* Has your favourite line/exchange/paragraph (share it):

Finding a favourite bit was literally impossible because all it did was remind me that I’m not all that good at writing 😂 However, I really like this scene from Closer, because I love how happy Sebastian is, and how fond Chris is, and how effortlessly these boys can laugh together, even during the most serious, heartfelt of moments. Since it’s a bit long-ish, I’ll put it under the cut!

*********

Sebastian blinks at Chris a few times, then suddenly sits up straight, grabbing Chris’s hand and prying open his fingers.

There they are. Two rings. That really happened.

His eyes snap back up to Chris’s face, wide and stunned. “You- had these made?”

Chris smiles at him indulgently. “Yes.”

“For us?”

“Yes.”

When the meaning of the gesture finally sinks in, a wave of pure, unadulterated happiness rises up in Sebastian’s chest so fast and fierce and unstoppable that it makes him feel lightheaded again – thought this time for an entirely different reason. He claps a hand over his mouth in a failed attempt to stifle the burst of laughter that escapes past his lips.

“Are you… laughing at me?” Chris asks, narrowing his eyes in suspicion, but he mostly seems amused.

Sebastian’s eyes grow even wider. “No,” he says firmly. “Fuck, Chris, I’m sorry.” He barks out another joyful laugh, unable to stop now that he’s started. “Sorry, sorry, I’m not laughing at you, I swear,” he hiccups, shaking his head from side to side and smiling like a lunatic. “I’m just so fuckin’ happy.”

“Oh, thank god,” Chris exclaims dramatically, slapping a hand over his heart. “So in that case, d’you think there’s any chance I could maybe get an answer at some point?” He pulls a face. “I mean, it may have escaped your notice, but I actually just made a heartfelt speech, declaring my undying love for you and asking you to be mine forever. But, you know, I can see how you could’ve missed that bit, it’s not like I poured my heart and soul into–”

Sebastian surges forward and cuts off Chris’s rambling by catching his still moving lips in a searing kiss.

#tag game #my fics #my writing

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lovelyirony · 4 years

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pls 33.) “He said oh my god you’re piecing it together/You are just a shadow of me/oh my lord you’ve never left the mirror/You were never ever free” Mirror Master with Peggy and Sharon parallels and some Steve/Sharon mayhaps? OR 12.) “It’s on pretty lady/born to be angry/grip of the vice/click on the trigger, girl/sip wine on ice” It’s About Time with rivals to lovers Nat/Maria

Sharon loved visiting her Aunt Peggy. From investigating the various nooks and crannies around the house to the “don’t tell your father I told you this story...” tidbits, it was her favorite place. Her house always smelled of tea and linen, and sometimes Aunt Peggy allowed her to try on some red lipstick.

“With red, you’ll be unstoppable,” Peggy says teasingly. “And who knows what will happen when you’re unstoppable...”

Being a kid means you don’t see a lot of the things that go on behind the scenes, so to speak. Sharon doesn’t know why her mother never likes that it’s Peggy who watches her when she can, doesn’t understand why her father doesn’t want Peggy to tell her what her job is.

She doesn’t know why her mom steers her away from any talk of “being just Peggy!”

��You want to do something else,” her mother says worriedly. “Didn’t you want to be a ballerina?”

“Peggy said they can’t work as a ballerina for very long because of repetition,” Sharon says, frowning.

“Then you can be a doctor. Or a lawyer!”

“Lawyers are boring,” Sharon says, rolling her eyes. “Why can’t I be like Aunt Peggy?”

“Because...just don’t ask,” her mother tells her. She’s irritated, voice getting sharp. Sharon knows that her mom is never a fun person when she’s mad. So Sharon doesn’t say anything, not until her mother is lying down for the night and she sneaks out to her dad’s office.

“Mom doesn’t want me to be like Aunt Peggy. Why?” She whispers, crawling into his lap. He smells like printer ink and the woodsy smell of his cologne.

“Peggy...she’s chosen a dangerous career. It gets her in a bit of trouble sometimes. Your mother doesn’t want that for you.”

“She wants me to be a boring lawyer,” Sharon whines. “I don’t wanna be a lawyer.”

“You don’t have to be,” her dad whispers. “You can be what you want. But with Aunt Peggy’s job...there’s more of a chance that you don’t get to see family as often. She’s lucky that she doesn’t have to move to England or Paris again.”

“She lived in England?” Sharon asks, eyes bugging out.

“Yes, for a bit. You know that we were raised there. She wasn’t there to visit anyone. She had to work the whole time.”

“That doesn’t sound like fun,” Sharon says, frowning.

“No, no it isn’t. But I think saving lives as a doctor could be fun, yeah?”

“Maybe.”

Sharon doesn’t stop wanting to be like Aunt Peggy. Peggy is fierce and Peggy is liked by a lot of people and holds influence.

Peggy Carter probably doesn’t sit alone at lunch because girls called her weird and guys say she’s too much like them.

Peggy Carter has loads of friends, like Aunt Angie and Mr. Jarvis.

If Sharon was more like Peggy, then maybe things would be different and her mom would quit asking her if she wants to invite Mackenzie to her birthday party.

Sharon is very similar to Peggy. Scarily so. She has the same intensity to her gaze, the same drive to help others in her own way. She doesn’t suffer fools easily, and Peggy knows that if she’s not careful, Sharon will end up like her.

And that is one thing that she is terrified of. Peggy knows a lot of the things that have led her to survive are either lucky or questionable. She’s done lots of things she’s not proud of. She doesn’t always check in on her kids as much as she should, doesn’t miss the drifting commentary of not being something/somewhere/someone “again.”

Again. What a damning word, to be something/someone/somewhere “again.”

So when Sharon asks her if she can start training--after all, she was already thirteen and needed to get a headstart if she really wanted to be like her aunt--and Peggy looks at her.

“No.”

“What? Why not?” Sharon asks, sipping the rest of her tea. “Is it still too early?”

“My job is not easy,” Peggy says. “It is not a game.”

“You think...what?” Sharon asks.

“You wouldn’t take it seriously,” Peggy says. “This isn’t some adventure of Betty Carver, this isn’t a Captain America adventure. No.”

Sharon blinks back tears. She can’t cry in front of Aunt Peggy, not here. Not now. She wants to prove she’s not some fucking little kid who thinks this is her thinking it’ll be like Betty Carver, the stupid nurse from the old radio show about Captain America.

“I-I’ll go home now,” Sharon says, voice brimming with tears. She can’t hide it. Doesn’t have the training for it, obviously. “See you later.”

Peggy knows it hurts Sharon. She knows it does, knows that she will never look at Sharon like she usually does. But she needs Sharon to be nothing like her.

Because if she’s everything like her...oh god.

Her mother is relieved. There’s a lighter air to her demeanor when Sharon says she’ll just walk home from school anymore.

“I don’t wanna bother Aunt Peggy,” she says lightly. They can’t know what was said. She can barely think of it without tears coming back up. “Do you think I can sign up for anatomy in high school?”

A doctor. That’s what she’ll be. That’s what she tells herself.

But then there comes a night when she’s home alone. Her parents are on a date night, playfully telling her to not do anything dangerous. She knows they mean have anyone over, light the house on fire.

They don’t think she’ll reconsider her career path.

Aunt Peggy doesn’t think she can do it. She thinks that Sharon is just some kid who thinks this whole thing is some stupidly fun mission and she’ll tell stories by the campfire when she’s old.

Sharon’s not stupid. She still may be a kid, but she doesn’t know why the hell anyone thinks kids are stupid.

She can still pretend like she’s gonna be a doctor. She’ll just need to add some necessary lies. Like saying she needs to study foreign languages to a.) make sure she knows her patients, and b.) get scholarships. Saying she needs self-defense because she wants to work in DC.

“To work on politicians, huh?” her dad asks with a grin. “Don’t pull the plug, they’ll throw you in jail.”

“I won’t get caught,” Sharon jokes.

“Don’t,” her mother warns. “You’ll get us all in trouble one day, I swear. What made you decide to focus more on all this, hm?”

“Future’s important,” Sharon says. “Isn’t that what you always say, mom?”

“So you can listen to that but not me telling you to put away your laundry seven times?”

“Mom!”

Her mother chuckles.

“I’m proud of you, honey. Just think, our next doctor! How fun...”

She prattles on about her insanely-boring Uncle Jimmy, who could make paint beg to dry quicker.

Sharon starts studying, and studying hard. She memorizes languages, at least enough to get by. She starts going to the gym and kickboxing. And she remembers that she wants to do this in spite of Aunt Peggy, because she wants to be there to help people.

She remembers Peggy’s stories of Steve, which always varied with Captain America’s. Steve was a sweetheart who liked to draw and had a surprisingly vicious sense of humor.

“You and him would have gotten along like a house on fire,” Peggy would say, chuckling. “Of course, he owed me a dance...I’m not sure if I would have taken him up on that.”

She would gaze fondly over at Uncle Daniel, who smiles in response and kisses her on the forehead and tells her what’s for dinner.

Steve always did stuff for the right reason. Didn’t matter that he was as skinny as a telephone pole, didn’t matter that he could get around New York by categorizing which streets he got beat up on. He kept going. He kept trying to be the best person he could under the circumstances.

That’s what Sharon likes about Steve Rogers. Of course Captain America most likely ended World War II on a much quicker pace and gave hope to millions, but it was Steve who at the end of the day promised a dance and had smiles on his face that were endearingly familiar to her.

When she goes to college, she goes on scholarship and moves into a dorm. Her mother tries to convince her in vain to join a sorority.

“Don’t you want built-in friends?” Her mother asks. “After all, you know that I still talk to Roberta and Missy from mine--”

“And they’re such a delight,” dad mutters, ignoring the dirty look his wife gives him. “Sharon, do what you want. You wanna join a sorority? Fine. You don’t? Cool.”

“They’re beneficial, Sharon. Who knows how many connections you could get for jobs?”

That makes Sharon pause.

She joins a sorority. Not her favorite thing, but some of these girls have mothers and fathers and family members that sway decisions. And if she wants a favor later, she’ll have to see Lindsey puke out three margaritas in a shitty bar to do it.

Class, of course, is difficult. She plays the part well of studying to be a doctor and finding out it just isn’t for her.

“Oh that’s okay,” her father says. “I wanted to be an archaeologist at some point. Can you imagine how ridiculous that would be? I misplace my socks half the time, I don’t know what I’d do with dinosaur bones...”

Sharon giggles. Says she’s thinking about switching to be a communications major.

They okay it, she’s set. She also has more time to train, practice languages, and get a minor in Spanish.

She keeps a lookout for SHIELD. Listens carefully to what her dad says about Aunt Peggy.

He knows something happened. Neither party will tell him, but something is off in the way Sharon makes too sharp a remark and Peggy hasn’t the faintest idea what Sharon’s actually up to.

“I worry about both of them,” Harrison tells his wife.

“People grow apart some times,” Amanda answers sleepily. “And it’s good that Sharon grew out of that phase where she wanted to be Margaret. Of all things...”

He supposes his wife is right. He sets down his newspaper, takes off his reading glasses, and heads to bed.

Meanwhile, Sharon has ditched her sorority’s party night to interview at SHIELD. She’s submitted her applications under Agent Thirteen, waiting for a response. When she gets an email from someone named “Phil Coulson” to meet at seven o’clock for an interview, she dresses in business casual and waits at a cafe for him.

He blinks.

“Does...does Director Carter know you’re here?”

“No, and I would prefer it if she didn’t,” Sharon says. “Especially since she’s retired and SHIELD is no longer under her eyes.”

Coulson clears his throat.

“Of..of course. May I ask why?”

“Family connections are dangerous things to have in this business,” Sharon tells him, taking a swig of coffee. “I would prefer to avoid it.”

She gets a trial run. She’s put in a course with the other new recruits. Calls her parents and says it’s a boot camp for leadership. (She’s not wrong...technically.) She tightens her ponytail and listens as the senior agents tell them all it isn’t a walk in the park.

“This isn’t some ‘save-the-day’ routine that you get to brag about once it’s done,” Agent Coulson says in that infuriatingly even, boring voice he has. “You’ll have nightmares. You will have to lie to everyone you love about everything. And people will leave you and you cannot blame them for it, you cannot tell them the real reason. Are you ready for that? Do you think you can handle that?”

Recruits nod. Sharon says “yes.” Because verbalizing it? That means you have a dedication. Simply nodding never means what it is. It means you cannot dedicate yourself to a problem, but you think you can.

It is that night when she sleeps on an uncomfortable cot that she understands Aunt Peggy a little bit more. She understands why she couldn’t always be there, why her own kids didn’t like visiting, or so mom had said.

(Maybe why she told you to stay away, her brain whispers. But she remembers her throat burning, remembering that her aunt had told her that she couldn’t train someone like her.)

Sharon keeps that thought away. Better not to have personal connections.

Of course, everyone wants to know why she’s Agent Thirteen.

“You like numbers or something?” One girl asks. “Come on, you can tell me. We’re friends, right?”

They are not friends. Lily seems to think they are because she wants Sharon to let her guard down enough so she can beat her time on the obstacle course.

“Nope,” Thirteen says. “Just call me Thirteen like everybody else. You’re not gonna know it.”

“Fine, be that way,” Lily says. “I’m still gonna kick your ass on the obstacle course, Thirteen.”

Sharon grins.

“Do your worst, Lily.”

(Lily’s worst is...well it’s worse than most everyone’s. She’s rejected from the field academy and doesn’t let anyone see her cry. But everyone can hear it over the steady thrum of the shower.)

“So, why the number Thirteen?” Agent Barton asks. He’s different from most recruits. For one, he’s from Iowa. That in itself is...something. Secondly, he was recruited from an honest-to-god circus where he wore purple sequins.

“Thirteen is my favorite number,” she responds, rewrapping her hands for the sparring session. “Why purple sequins?”

“They were out of hot pink,” Clint says, and she laughs. “Come on, I think if we hurry to the cafeteria we can get a meal that is only questionable and not highly questionable.”

Thirteen scores well on tests involving body language. She reads people like a book. Her aim could use work, but it’s proficient enough to impress. She can turn on the charm, turn on the lies like she’s meant to do it.

(And she’s spent so long lying to everyone around her, is it any wonder?)

When she gets officially inducted, Fury asks her if her aunt knows.

“No, and I would rather she didn’t,” Sharon said tersely.

She understands Peggy now. She understands her in the way that agents are lost and people get frustrated and drop the training because they have a spouse that they love more than life itself. God knows how Peggy balanced it.

She thinks that maybe Aunt Peggy was scared that Sharon would disappear and never return, become like so many others on the wall of remembrance.

Sharon touches Steve’s placard every time she passes it. It’s more tarnished than others, the first one on the wall. Her fingers trace the “S” and the “R” every time, and she smiles as she remembers the stories of him.

People see similarities. The higher-ups don’t spill any secrets to the lower agents, they can’t. But they know that she’s related to Peggy in the way her voice becomes clipped when she’s frustrated, in the ways her eyes flash in rage.

She’s too similar, she knows that.

The comparisons won’t stop. Because she knows she’s too similar. Dear god, sometimes she’s worried that she’ll look into a mirror and see her.

The older agents, the ones that have been in the field and now deal with all the boring paperwork and paper trails whisper to her that Peggy made a lot of the same decisions as she did, stayed behind to make sure the job was done.

“You’re just like her,” Agent Veering says, his spectacles slipping down his nose. “She would be proud of you, you know.”

No, no she wouldn’t. To have someone turn out exactly like you?

Well...you know your shortcomings. You know your failures. You know how you will die, nearly. And someone having that same pattern?

God, Peggy would die.

So she pushes that out of her mind. She focuses on the mission at hand and reads the various notecards on the fridge about “please don’t touch this meal or you will die.”

She’s one of their best. Of course she is, people say. Fury is reminded of Peggy’s legacy, of how Sharon acts. She puts herself out there first, luring people away with expectations. It’s...eerily similar.

Sharon gets a call from her parents. They think she has an office job dealing with communications in security fields. (Technically not a lie. Also not a complete truth.)

“You need to come visit Peggy,” dad says quietly. “Please.”

“What happened?”

“She’s been diagnosed with Alzheimer’s.”

It’s a terrible thing. Because it can’t get better, it will only get worse until you have someone who doesn’t know a damn thing.

Peggy doesn’t like all the fuss.

“Don’t worry about me darling,” she tells Harrison. “I’m fine. Just a bit forgetful. I’ll be out of hospital in a week, tops. I’ll be back to work!”

She thinks she’s going back to work a lot.

They actually have to keep her in a special home, one monitored by SHIELD agents. She keeps revealing secrets, ones that people absolutely cannot know.

But on good days, Sharon visits. And on bad days.

“I cannot believe you joined SHIELD,” Peggy says sharply. “It’s exactly what I didn’t want you to do.”

“Should’ve told me to go for it and then told me about the recruit training,” Sharon says. “Would’ve turned me off completely.”

Peggy laughs. She holds Sharon hands.

“Promise me you’ll be careful. Don’t...don’t be like me.”

And it means more now. It’s unavoidable, what Peggy has. And yet there’s always the “what if.”

“Okay,” Sharon says, knowing she is lying. “Okay.”

Sharon cries in her car. For longer than ten minutes. Which is fine, she knows that.

But she gets a call from Hill.

“Thirteen?”

“What?”

“Okay over there?” Maria asks. Sharon can feel the eyebrow raise from here.

“Personal issues. I’ll be okay. What is it?”

“You’re gonna want to get here as quick as possible. I’m talking a hundred miles an hour.”

“What, did Fury finally wear white?”

“No, way better than that.”

They fucking found him. They found Steve Rogers. He’s in a block of ice and he’s alive.

Sharon’s horrified. Everyone else seems to be losing it, smiling and grinning because Cap is back.

They don’t know how badly he’s going to be out of time.

She goes straight to Fury.

“You can’t push him immediately,” she says. “You can’t.”

“And what, you know Cap better than us?” Fury asks.

“I know Steve better than you,” Sharon says, leveling with him. “And this is gonna suck and he’s going to need to learn how to be himself before Captain America is even an option. Trust me. Trust the psychologists who are gonna tell you the exact same thing.”

Fury looks at her for a moment.

“Tell me the difference.”

“Steve is going to run out of that room because you messed up,” Sharon says, gesturing to the woman they’re having going in. “You got the fashion wrong, you got the hair wrong. In the army, her hair would’ve been up and away. You’re also playing a baseball game that he was at. He knows that he won’t be.”

“We’re not sure the state of his memory.”

“He memorized strategies and sites of attack in one glance and could recall even the smallest detail about a stranger, he’ll remember,” Sharon argues.

Steve Rogers runs.

Sharon curses. She fucking knew they’d pull this, knew that SHIELD wanted Captain America back so badly they’d forget that he’s still just a guy.

He stares at Times Square with all of its people, all of the lights, and he looks lost.

“I...I had a dance.”

Fury ushers him back inside. Sharon says nothing.

This does not explain why Steve Rogers gets moved in right next to her apartment.

“What the fuck,” Sharon seethes into her phone. “When I told you to get him help, I didn’t mean me!”

“You’re the one who has the closest connection to him. Seeing your aunt is gonna depress the living shit out of him,” Clint says.

(Yes, she told Clint. In her defense she was wine-drunk, had eaten the best burger to that point in her life, and Clint had made her laugh for ten minutes straight.)

“Is he seeing a therapist?”

“As soon as he agrees to one.”

Sharon knocks her head against the wall. And then goes over to see Steve looking forlornly at the space.

“What’s up?” she asks.

Steve turns, blinking at her.

“Who are you?”

“Sharon. Carter.”

“You’re...?”

“Related? Yes. But that’s not important right now. You need help unpacking your kitchen stuff.”

“I’m fine.”

“I don’t think you realize how bad new agents are at packing things,” Sharon says. “I’m helping.”

Steve is truly and really lost. It reminds him of when he went through the city for the first time by himself and got lost around a streetcar and he couldn’t find his way back until Bucky had happened to walk by with a cute girl on his arm.

He should really tell Bucky about all of this, he just needs to find--

Stamps. For a man who’s MIA. Or KIA. Most likely the latter.

Then he can’t breathe. And he sits on a chair that’s too modern and he stares at a carpet that looks weird, and Sharon is by him.

“Hey,” she says. “Breathe. You’re here in your apartment. I put away dishes. I’m making you get new coffee mugs because the ones you have are disgusting.”

“Where the fuck do I get those?” Steve asks. “Woolworth’s? Do they even have those?”

“Missed it by a decade or eight,” Sharon says. “No, there are other stores. Better designs, too. Or we can go and paint custom mugs. Ever wanted to see what it looks like to paint ‘fuck you’ on a mug?”

Sharon is pretty sure she’s fucking everything up.

But Steve laughs.

“You can....you can do that?”

“Of course you can,” Sharon says. “Let me show you some stuff...”

Steve is taught the worst and best of American pop culture. He hates rock music for now.

“I’m down the hall, the first room on your left,” Sharon says. “Don’t hesitate to knock for anything. I know you will need things, do not tell me you are fine. You’re not a good actor yet.”

He breaks a wall. A fucking wall. It’s the one leading into her room, and luckily her bed wasn’t against it. He’s covered in dust and wood and plaster, and he speaks a litany of apologies.

Sharon can’t help it.

She laughs.

“Only you would make sure we had a shared apartment,” she says.

“I can fix it I know it isn’t proper--”

“I don’t care about proper,” Sharon says. “At least now I can keep a closer eye on you. We’ll have SHIELD do some renovation work while I show you potentially the worst or best places you will ever go.”

Steve gets a tour of DC. He remembers when there were stories and pictures of President Woodrow Wilson’s sheep “mowing” the lawn. He’s surprised at all the security measures, and is not happy that there is more security on public transit.

“We can still break in if you want,” Sharon says. “But I’ll get you a pass.”

“It’s the future and it sucks,” Steve mutters.

Sharon laughs out loud at that.

“Well I’ll show you something that doesn’t suck, and that is a restaurant that I only take few people to, such as Agent Barton. You’ll meet him later, he’s a real disaster.”

Steve loves the burger place and all of its seedy decorations and kitschy photos of old celebrities visiting.

Sharon takes him grocery shopping. He’s overwhelmed.

“How are there more than one type of orange? How can you afford them?”

“We get good pay from SHIELD,” Sharon answers. “Tell me, have you ever had a strawberry margarita?”

“What?”

“Adding to cart,” Sharon answers. “You’re about to enjoy alcohol, finally.”

“Peggy tell you I hate it?”

“Just figured you would,” Sharon says. “She said the only time she saw you drink was when Bucky disappeared.”

It’s sad after that. Steve’s shoulders hunch in on themselves.

“You ever lost someone?” Steve asks.

“I am,” Sharon says quietly. “Do you want to make a pie?”

“What?”

“I’m going with no,” Sharon answers back. “We’ll make good brownies then.”

Steve’s frame is hilariously slim when you wrap an apron around it. Sharon can’t see she doesn’t admire it.

“This is amazing,” Steve says.

“Quit licking the batter,” Sharon says. “We have to eat these, you heathen.”

“Oh, like you’ll die from it,” Steve answers back sarcastically. “I was frozen for seventy years, I wanna lick batter.”

Sharon nods.

He doesn’t want to see a therapist. Insists he’s fine.

Sharon gestures to the wall that is now tastefully decorated with curtains.

“...fine. But if I don’t like it I’m leaving.”

“Would never force you to stay,” Sharon says. “Keep in mind one therapist is not your end-all solution. Sometimes you need to look around.”

“Do you...?”

“Yup,” Sharon says. “Can’t be as sexy as I am without a few issues that need working on.”

Eventually, Steve finds one.

He shows Sharon his world. He shows her records that he keeps buying off online sites, the player that he swears he can fix up.

“We could probably get you a functional gramophone if you wanted,” Sharon says. “Like yeah it’ll be expensive but we can do it.”

“I want one that’s well-loved,” Steve says. “One with character.”

Not for the first time does Sharon smile.

They sit together at dinner sometimes, and Steve tells her about what Brooklyn used to be, and she tells him stories of how she would climb trees until she couldn’t go any higher, and she used to memorize all of the cassettes and CDs that her parents had. She could still sing along to ABBA with no prompt.

She makes Steve watch Mamma Mia! after that, laughing as he stares wide-eyed.

“This is incredible.”

Steve looks at Sharon like she’s his world. And in some respects, she is. But he can’t get over how different she is from Peggy. And that’s the damning evidence, isn’t it? That she’s a connection, but she’s...she’s not.

She doesn’t wear red lipstick, doesn’t own any. Told him one day that she looked stupid in it. “I’m unstoppable without it, I don’t need it,” she says, and it feels like there’s something more there.

How she reacts in some ways like Peggy would, but how communicative she is with others. How she laughs and makes sure people are comfortable in the situation. Not that Peggy wasn’t any of that, but she was focused on getting to the end, to proving that it was a success. Sharon wanted the same thing, but what mattered was that people were okay.

He doesn’t stay with Sharon all the time. She encourages him to get out “into the big, bad, scary world.”

She meant interacting with college art students, which is quite scary. He agrees. He thinks it’s very cool that you can dye your hair now, and buys the shittiest dye ever.

He dyes his hair blue and accidentally smears some down his neck. He shivers as Sharon traces her hand down, laughing.

“Oh my god. Steve, what did you do?”

“Marcy in my class has pink hair, I wanted to dye my hair!” Steve says defensively. “You left me bored.”

Sharon smiles up at him.

(What would it be like to wrap his arms around her? To hold her and let the universe pass them by?)

He shakes his head out of the thought.

“Ooh, showing off the hair?” Sharon asks, grinning.

“Of course.”

“Nerd,” she teases. “Well come on, I got some ice cream from the store. Your favorite which is disgustingly basic, but here we are.”

“It’s basic for a reason, it’s good,” Steve teases right back. “Need to ask you about my new art project.”

“Shoot.”

“I need to draw someone. And you’re basically the only person I really, um, want to draw.”

“What, afraid that you can’t capture Coulson’s strong personality on paper?” Sharon asks wryly. Steve snorts.

“Oh yeah, his vivacity would fly off the page. Really and honestly, truly.”

“Well, what do I need to do?”

“It has to be a stylized portrait from any historical era,” Steve answers. “And I already have the materials and stuff, we just need to go shopping for some clothing and stuff. Maybe accessories.”

“Okay.”

Sharon thinks her heart is absolutely stupid for beating this fast. It’s been doing this more recently.

Natasha keeps making fun of her.

Steve wants to do a Baroque style, over-the-top goddess style. He has her dripping in drapery and gold chains, thin as can be. He delicately sets a crown that he weaved into her hair.

“You look gorgeous,” he says, blinking. “Just...wow.”

“All thanks to the cute artist,” Sharon flirts back, winking. “Tell me how you want me.”

Silence after that.

But Steve positions her reclining, and she can’t stop herself from raising an eyebrow at him.

“I feel ridiculous, just so you know.”

“You look great, if that’s any connotation.”

“It could be.”

She smiles at him, and that’s the winning expression. “Hold please.”

Sharon tries her best, stilling. Benefit of SHIELD training. She can stay still for hours. Her smile, however, moves.

This is fine. Steve smiles back.

“Break time,” he announces a couple of hours later. Sharon sags on the couch, swinging her legs over.

She overestimates her abilities and the fabric, as one foot gets caught and she falls forward.

Steve’s catching her in a flash. She grins.

“Being my hero, huh?”

“Of course,” Steve says. “Where would I be if I didn’t save the pretty lady?”

Sharon smiles, leans closer.

“Can I...I wanna kiss you.”

Steve blinks. Goes for it.

Sharon smiles into it.

Months later, when everything’s going to shit and Natasha asks if that’s the first kiss he’s had since 1945, he smiles to himself.

“No, it’s not,” he tells her. “You knew that, didn’t you?”

Natasha smiles to herself.

“Sharon’s not gonna be mad at me, is she?”

“Of course not,” Steve says. “Especially after I tell her I convinced you to wear these terrible shoes.”

“Hey!”

When he wakes up at the hospital, Sharon’s standing at the side and Sam’s sitting down.

“On your left,” Steve pants out.

“You--” Sam hangs his head, laughing. “You got me on that one. Got your shield. We don’t know where Barnes is. Your girl is here, by the way. Gotta say, you got lucky.”

“Damn right I did,” Steve says weakly. Sharon waves. Steve tries to wave.

“You got thrown from a Helicarrier, don’t,” Sharon says. She sends Sam off with a goodbye hug and a promise to deliver some dessert as a thank-you.

She looks at Steve.

“You have so much explaining to do. So much. But later.” She takes his hand, kissing it softly. “I was terrified.”

“So was I.”

They sit like that for a moment. Steve turns, seeing the bandage around her arm.

“What’s that?”

“Rumlow’s a bastard with a knife, played dirty,” Sharon says. “It’s nothing. He got crushed under a building. Karma, you know. Whole thing.”

Steve laughs. Winces. Sharon puts her hand over his.

“Get some rest,” she says. “I’ll be back tomorrow to visit and evaluate if you can go home or not.”

“I’ll be fine.”

Sharon rolls her eyes.

“Of course you are.”

She presses a kiss to his forehead.

“I love you, honey. Stay safe.”

“You too.” He squeezes her hand.

Things will be okay.

#HOLY FUCKING SHIT. HOLY FUCKING SHIT THIS IS SO FUCKIGN LONG. WHAT THE FUCK DID I DO #peggy carter #sharon carter #steve rogers #clint barton #yes clint is her bff yes i do what i want #of course i do what would you have expected #lovelyirony writes #any single time jess (not me) requests a prompt from me i just HAVE to go feral #staron

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spiltscribbles · 4 years

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83 or 87 for Hamliza? Always love your writing! ❤

Notes: I really hope you like this love, you are so kind and brilliant! The * eps it’s from a Fitzgerald quote lol.

83 » When you love someone, you just don’t stop. Ever. Even when people roll their eyes or call you crazy… even then. Specially then

AO3 » Send Me A Prompt

Eliza can admit she’s always been the romantic in her family, a contrast to Angelica’s short-winded passions with whomever caught her eye for that particular moment, and Peggy’s nonchalant, pragmatic sort of favor for one of the folks at her beck and call. Since girlhood she’s been windswept with the follies of Prince Charming and one’s true love and happy ever afters painted with sunlit skies and earnest kisses.

Eliza supposes that’s why when she met Alexander— spirited and ravenous and brilliant Alexander— she was already a goner. She knows she should’ve been afraid, cautious at the very least, when it came to his electric smile and bright eyes bursting with life. But Eliza had never been so mesmerized by a boy before, never felt that particular thud to her chest or the way her nerves sparked with every gentle caress, or sometimes how his kisses made her ribcage want to crack open, to scream at him to look at her! Just look! To see the way her insides sung for him, how she glowed every time he sparkled. How it felt like something lovely bloomed within her every time it felt like he actually understood the facets of herself she never knew how to explain with words.

It’s nearly two decades removed from the first time they locked eyes— Eliza a fresh faced graduate from Yale and Alexander the wonder boy speech writer for Washington’s gubernatorial campaign. They’ve built a home together, parented six kids, went through joys and heart break in equal measures, and yet, he still makes Eliza weak in the knees, makes her feel buoyant and feverish and maddening all at once with nothing more than the curve of the lips and the way he’s always touched her so tenderly, like he was still holding his breath, like Eliza was something miraculous through every layer and if he’s not cautious she’ll break.

Eliza inwardly snorts, more than a bit derisive, when memories of the past year flood into the forefront of her mind. When she thinks of the pamphlet and the tabloids and the gutted way he has been staring at her, like he has any right, like it was Eliza who broke their every vow and shattered the trust between them.

But no.

No, Eliza won’t let herself get lost in those sort of thoughts, not now, preferably not ever again. They’re finally on some sort of solid ground once more, he swore that he’d right every wrong and she promised to let him try. And maybe that’s enough? Maybe it’s enough that she loves him and despite it all she knows he’s always loved her, loved her first and second and third.*

Maybe they can make it enough.

Eliza takes a deep breath as she walks into their Georgetown townhouse, the weight of the day still heavy on her shoulders. Technically she’s still on maternity leave, but the agency called in a panic early this morning when she was preparing Johnny’s lunch for school, apparently some sort of paperwork had gone missing and if it wasn’t turned into the state by the end of the workday one of the major grants wouldn’t be renewed, and of course it’s in the field that Eliza headed. Thankfully Alexander had offered to call in and watch William for the morning, but Eliza has missed her little newborn, craves kicking off her heals, and stealing some hours of calm bundled up in the sheets with him cradled in her arms— Maybe Eliza imagines Alexander taking off the rest of the day too, maybe she hopes he’d curve against her and wrap his long arms around the pair of them. Maybe the idea of that makes Eliza ache with wanting.

Before climbing upstairs, she goes to the kitchen to pick up a small snack, can’t help the swell of the heart she gets when she spots one of the letters Alexander’s been penning for her these last few months taped against the fridge.

She smiles to herself when she reads the pros. He’s always been able to string words together in the loveliest of ways , making her blush and laugh in the same breath. Eliza hadn’t known what he meant when he swore to Eliza that he’d court her all over again, earn his second chance, but she can admit she’s begun enjoying this thrust to the past, letting him relearn each patch of skin on her body and scab on her heart, and returning the favor.

“Ma?”

Eliza jolts back, suddenly stunned at the sound of someone walking in.

Eliza’s expecting to see Church or one of Alexander’s friends from college, the ones the public’s fondly dubbed the revolutionaries, is surprised when who walks through the doorway is Philip, a bashful grin on his face. it’s Alexander’s smile through and through, and it takes Eliza’s breath away how much he looks like his father in certain lights— tousled hair and bright eyes and dimpled chin.

“Philip! You could’ve given me a heart attack,” she scolds with no real heat, instinctively comes up to pad down his curls and press a kiss to his cheek— he’s been taller than her since he was twelve and it’s a fact that still blows Eliza away.

“You’re not that old Ma,” he smirks, making Eliza elbow check him.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” she toots. “Now what are you doing home so early?”

“You know my last hour’s a free period,” he shrugs, takes the bottle of water she offers him with thanks.

“Yes, but this is when you usually canoodle with Theo before getting to your internship,” Eliza says after taking a swig of her own.

Philip glares now, pouting moodily. “I hate that you guys actually talk.”

“You should see the group thread we’ve got going with Angie,” Eliza preens, snickers at the way he waggles his tongue in retaliation.

“Not cool Ma.”

“C’mon now Pip, tell me what’s going on?” She hops on the counter so that there eyes are level while Philip sits on the stool, head cradled on his palms.

“Just wanted some space,” he says, doesn’t catch her gaze.

“Pip don’t forget that I was the one who changed your diapers,” Eliza needles.

“Gross mom!”

“Lies won’t work on me,” she continues as if he hadn’t interrupted. “Now tell me what’s going on, will you?”

“’s just— Ma we’re about to graduate.”

“I know, I had to bribe the president of the PTO to get extra tickets for your grandparents.”

Philip furrows his brows, “Really?”

“Pip,” Eliza warns, the lightly reproving tone belied by the way she cards a hand through his hair. “What does graduation have to do with you and Theo?”

He puts out his hands, like it should be obvious.

“I’m going to the city like dad in Columbia, and all Burrs go to Princeton,” he explains airily. “I mean I think we should probably just start the, de-threading.”

“De-threading?” Eliza repeats incredulously.

“Yeah, I mean they’re like an hour apart Ma, and when we come back here for holidays we’ll each be spending it with our families, not each other. I mean don’t you reckon that letting things fizzle out like this before summer and prom and all that is the responsible thing to do.”

Eliza frowns, her heart sinking. Philip might’ve inherited Alexander’s smile and quick wit, but he’s her son too. He has Eliza’s eyes and the same freckle beneath his left nostril. But atop that, he’s also just as much of a romantic as Eliza and she knows that for fact. This plotting out breakups and worrying about what will happen in the future isn’t him.

“Do you still love her?” She asks lightly, making it so Philip’s brows hike up and his mouth gapes open.

“Course I do, she’s my— She’s my everything.”

“Then why would you want to break up with her before even trying to work it out?” She counters.

Philip casts his gaze at a point over Eliza’s shoulder, hands rinsing together nervously.

“I don’t— I don’t wanna hurt her, like meet some other chick while at a party or studying at the union or whatever and then—“

Oh.

Eliza supposes she should’ve been expecting this, but that doesn’t stop her from feeling so incredibly gutted that her little love, her baby Philip, is afraid of doing something like this.

“You don’t want to do what your father did to me,” Eliza finishes, leaps down so that she’s standing straight.

“I’m sorry Ma,” Philip says, face morphed into something painfully contrite.

“Don’t be my little love,” Eliza tells him, squeezes one of his hands into her own. “I love your father, I’ve always loved your father, I will always love your father Philip, and When you love someone, you just don’t stop. Ever. Even when people roll their eyes or call you crazy… even then. Specially then.”

Philip nods slowly, understanding.

“Dad really hurt you, huh?”

“Your dad loves me too, and I’ve never doubted that Pip, and when things get tough, it just means we have to work that much harder to keep one another,” Eliza says with a thin, watery smile.

“I’m gonna go catch Theo before she leaves campus.” He says, understanding glittering in his eyes.

“If you don’t let me know what went down I’ll just ask her,” Eliza goads, watches him scurry back out to his car.

“I thought I heard voices in here?”

Eliza turns around, isn’t surprised when she sees a beaming Alexander walking towards her in his sweats and a white t-shirt, baby Will tucked into one arm.

“Pip stopped by before going to the internship, he’s gone now,” Eliza explains, meeting him half way there and beginning to croon to a sleepy Will.

“Oh,” Alexander is tentative when he pushes a curl back behind her ear. “I can wait for the rest of the brew here while you take a nap with William?”

Eliza purses her lips, thinks about her conversation that she had with Philip just now, and it’s the first time since the pamphlet being leaked that she doesn’t second guess her decision.

Softly, Eliza presses up on her toes to peck a tender kiss on the underside of Alexander’s jaw, breathing in deep and feeling a rush of love all over again.

“I’d prefer it if you came to bed with us, I’m sure the kids will be fine with ordering out for dinner.”

Alexander looks like Eliza’s just gifted him with all the secrets of all the galaxies when he readily agrees, kisses her forehead and the top of her cheek and her lips too.

#HAMLIZA #ALEXANDER HAMILTON #ELIZA SCHUYLER HAMILTON #ELIZA HAMILTON #HAMILTON #ASWITHASUNBEAM #SPILT INK #one of these days I'll clear my inbox

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mymarvelbunch · 4 years

Text

Different Roads... Same Destination: Part Four

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader (established). This specific chapter contains a lot of Steve x Peggy! (Also, brief mentions to Steve x Sharon)

Summary: When the Avengers went back in time to get the Infinity Stones, new timelines were created. By not delivering them back to their exact same spots, you and Steve created major changes in those timelines. What happened? (Non-American!Reader)

This is a sequel to “Be Your Own Hero”. I highly recommend you read it first, since it features many major changes in canon that are addressed here.

Notes: Y/N = your (first) name; Y/Co = your home country; Y/Ci = your home city; Y/N/L = your native language (to be ignored in case you speak English).

Masterlist

Part Four

1945

Peggy was, naturally, in denial. It took a lot of time to convince her of his identity, and even then she was only fully convinced when she kissed him. “You kiss the same”, she whispered, pulling away after brief seconds (enough time for him to cup her face).

He had wanted to keep his return a secret at first, but he failed to account for Howard Stark. Soon Captain America was all over the news as ‘coming back from the dead’. Journalists gathered around him to get interviews, and for months he didn’t have a single moment of peace.

It didn’t matter much, not as he and Peggy danced to a newly released song, kissing every time the lyrics told them to.

“Kiss me once, and kiss me twice, and kiss me once again, It’s been a long, long time...”

1947

He and Peggy got married with only Howard, Jarvis and their wives as witnesses. On their honeymoon, he told her all about alternate Steve and showed the small notebook he gave him.

“Sergeant Barnes alive?”, she nearly gasped.

“Kept prisoner by HYDRA, according to this”, he said. “Had been injected by a prototype serum when I rescued him, which enabled him to survive his fall. Makes sense in retrospect.”

She bit her lip. “I guess it’s worth a look, though we can’t do anything useful before we go back to Washington.”

They didn’t wait long after that. Sgt. Barnes was successfully rescued four months later, along with other prisoners. “I’m offended I didn’t get to be your best man, punk”, was the first full sentenced Bucky said after stepping foot on American soil. Steve laughed, and Peggy grinned.

“I hope being our child’s godfather can compensate for it”, she said, placing her hands on her belly. Steve’s attention was suddenly all on her as he hugged her tightly.

Bucky joined SHIELD soon after Howard made him a new arm. “Way prettier than the one HYDRA gave me. More functional too.”

“Of course”, Howard boasted. “Don’t compare me to that shitty corporation.”

Bucky was also very vocal about not letting Zola inside SHIELD, which reminded Steve of another thing written in The Notebook. He would not tell Howard about his alternate self - he didn’t trust the man to keep his mouth shut - but he was able to reason with him.

“Zola belongs either in jail or in a grave”, Peggy spat. Pregnancy made her more prone to anger. The scientist was found dead not much after, and no one ever found out how he died (not that anyone bothered that much).

1970

Bucky got married in 1950 to Angie Martinelli, Peggy’s friend who was Sarah Rogers’ godmother along with him. Their first children (a couple of twins, Peter and Lyra) came to world two years later, a week before Steve and Peggy’s first son, Christopher.

Peggy was still director of SHIELD, Steve slowly fading to the background as its agent. Not that he minded, even though Peggy insisted on his importance as Captain America. “You are a symbol, Steve”, she’d say.

“Captain America is a title”, he’d reply. “It can belong to someone else.”

However, he was only able to pass his mantle when Sarah turned 20 and completed her training. All his four children (Sarah, Chris, Emily and Paul) were born with his serum on their veins, enabling them to follow their father’s steps if they wanted.

Sarah was the only one who did, much to Steve’s relief; he wasn’t looking forward to a family of spies. She officially took the title of Captain America on the week that marked Tony Stark’s birth.

It was another point of his and Peggy’s talks. The Notebook had notes on Howard’s only son; how he had not received enough love from his father, and only relied on his mother (and sometimes his family butler) for support. “If we got named as his godparents, we’ll have a perfect excuse to be in his life”, he told her, and she agreed.

It was a little odd, the time it took for Howard and Maria to have a child. By the time Tony was born, the only reason they weren’t grandparents yet was the fact that Sarah didn’t want to get married.

Meanwhile, Christopher and Emily were engaged to each of Bucky’s twins. “Reminds me of when the entire 107th though you and I were fucking”, his best friend said, laughing like it was the best joke he had ever heard.

Peggy didn’t help any. “You mean that you were ‘fondueing’?”, she asked while taking a sip of tea, like the British woman she was. Steve just groaned.

1976

Peggy’s sister-in-law (who was ten years younger than her husband) gave birth to her youngest child on the same month she and Steve became grandparents. Sharon Carter was mentioned in The Notebook, but in passing; he missed it on his first reading.

“Agent 13″, he read aloud to Peggy. She already had a few white hair locks, and the difference between their aging speed was visible (though he was sure he saw a white strand on the previous week). “I suppose this means she worked for SHIELD in the other timeline.”

“It might not be the case now”, his wife replied softly. “This is Sharon who had another uncle. She probably saw you looking less than 30.” A chuckle. “Who knows, this other Steve might have even dated her.”

“Absolutely not, she’s my niece.”

“She isn’t the other Steve’s.”

A loud groan was heard. “I really don’t want to imagine it, Peggy. We’re talking about a baby. A baby who’s our grandson’s age.”

The amount of teasing Steve endured at that very moment could not be properly translated into words. You were no help, busy as you were laughing.

“Aw, I wish she was here to watch this”, Sam said. “Why didn’t you invite her, Scott?”

“I... don’t know her?”

“Where is she, by the way?”, Natasha wondered. You glanced at Steve, who huffed.

“I kiss her one time, and now I’m supposed to know all her whereabouts?” When you didn’t answer, just kept staring, he sighed. “I’ve heard she moved to California.”

“See? That wasn’t so hard.”

“I clearly have a type: women who can kick my ass and laugh at my expense.”

“I can’t kick your ass, not without Mjölnir, or Stormbreaker.”

“The mere fact that you can wield them already enables you to kick my ass.”

“Stop arguing before it gets kinky!”, Tony shouted. You two laughed.

1991

Taking down KGB was not an easy task. Without HYDRA, the Soviets invested more on their national espionage division.

However, it got easier with the fall of Soviet Union. Following her father’s instructions, Sarah rescued many little girls training to be spies. One of them was to be brought to US, if she consented to it.

Natalia Romanova, a 7-year-old girl with dreams of becoming a ballerina, is adopted by the Starks. Tony, a 21-year-old adult, happily welcomes his little sister into the family.

“There’s someone else for us to look after”, he mentioned to Peggy. His hair was fully white now, and his ‘Adonis muscles’ had started to fade off, but he was still more energetic than most 73-year olds.

“There are many names, actually”, Peggy replied. She had just retired from SHIELD, after turning 70. She wasn’t as ‘preserved’ as her husband, but still looked younger than her age. “We only crossed Bucky’s, Tony’s and Natasha’s. There is still a lot of work to do if we are going to follow your notebook, and so far it seems to be the right thing to do.”

However, right after they took Clint Barton from the circus and had Emily adopt him too, they took a pause to mourn their youngest son.

In 1979, Paul told his parents he was gay. Although surprised, they simply told him that they’d always love and support him. He and Sarah moved out of their parents’ home and lived together, since neither of them would marry. In 1990, however, he was diagnosed with AIDS after he started coughing blood. It left the whole family terrified; Paul himself had been telling them about his other gay/bi friends who had been taken away due to that horrible disease.

Two years later, he died at home, holding his sister’s hand and gasping for breath.

Was it okay to cry for a son you never had? Because tears were falling down Steve’s cheeks for Paul. You kissed his cheek and embraced him tighter, but didn’t say a word. You tried to imagine yourself in Peggy’s place. Steve might have already been prepared for the possibility of outliving his offspring; after all, no one knew how long he’d live with the serum in his blood. But Peggy was like you, a normal human. At the age of 70 especially, she would never think she’d outlive one of her children, let alone her youngest.

You had studied a bit about the AIDS pandemic at college, but no reading would do justice to the pain you could see in the faces of those alternate versions of your friends and their beloved ones.

1995

By the time Carol Danvers showed on SHIELD’s radar, Sarah Rogers had already passed the Captain America mantle to her 15-year-old nephew John. “It’ll be temporary”, he warned, “until any of my siblings or cousins is ready to take it.”

Still, he was there to watch over Carol and rescue her from the Kree who tried to kidnap her. He took her to her best friend, and he could swear he saw his deceased uncle when Danvers and Rambeau smiled and embraced each other.

Ten years later, he’d pass the mantle to his young brother James as he and Monica Rambeau had their first child.

2008

Tony was still kidnapped in Afghanistan and still became Iron Man, his parents long gone (Howard had a heart attack in 1993 and Maria had a stroke in 1998). Looking back, he blamed himself for not listening to Aunt Peggy and Uncle Steve; they had always told him to shut down the weapons department of Stark Industries (but how could he? He had a duty to SHIELD).

This time, however, he had more than just Pepper, Rhodey and Happy for support. Natasha soon realized Obadiah Stane’s true intentions and unmasked him before he could do any real damage. Tony’s little sister got an iron suit of her own in her 24th birthday.

Clint and Natasha still joined SHIELD, but with no red on their ledger to wipe out. Hank Pym still recruited Scott Lang, but years in advance, thanks to a ‘casual tip’ Peggy Carter gave him (he never left SHIELD or Stark Industries in this one). His daughter would eventually get a suit of her own, though hers would take more time.

Sam was recruited to SHIELD too, shortly after losing Riley. His new job gave him a purpose, and he was happy.

Banner never turned into the Hulk, not when he had Steve to talk him out of replicate his serum. “This is no blessing”, he told him. “Just look at mine and Bucky’s kids. Why do you think they married within our inner circle? Why do you think John married a woman who lived with a super-powered step-mom? None of us really fit in, we’re outsiders. You don’t want that.”

So, when Loki arrived with the Chitauri army, a slightly different team defeated him. James Rogers was barely 18, too young to lead, but Tony had grown up with Steve as his godfather and Sarah as his ‘cousin’ and knew how to do it. Iron Man, Iron Scarlet (there was no Black Widow alias for Natasha to adopt), Captain America (fourth of his name, as people called him), Hawkeye, Thor, Captain Marvel and Ant-Man teamed up rather easily. (A couple years later, War Machine, Falcon and the Wasp would join the team.)

With no HYDRA, there is no Scarlet Witch, no Quicksilver. Tony is a different man here, not blinded by trauma and fear, and there is no Ultron either. T’Chaka is never killed, but this time, Wakanda is visited by the Avengers and the three former Captain Americas. Their borders are opened without a civil war, and eventually Shuri is the one added to the Avengers line-up (not in a Black Panther suit, of course; it’d be disrespectful).

Peggy passes away in her sleep in 2016. Steve is still strong enough to carry her coffin, with Bucky by his side and their sons behind them. “Did that notebook tell you that?”, his best friend asked after they left the cemetery.

“No. The notes end on ‘Thanos’ and ‘Infinity Stones’. I’m not sure what any of these mean.”

“You should pass it on to the Avengers. It’s past our time to help, punk.”

It was true. Both of them lost most of their built-up appearance, and truly looked like old men. Their third great-grandkid had just been born, and now both were widowers (Angie had died a year before Peggy, in a hospital, after fracturing her left femur). A week later, they moved to an apartment Tony bought for them, near the Avengers Tower. Steve gave the Notebook to James and retired for good.

2018

In the end, no warning prepared them for the Decimation. In their defense, Thanos didn’t really invade Earth this time. Ebony Maw showed up to get the Time Stone and, like in the original timeline, the battle was taken to space.

The heartbreak over losing so many of his family, so suddenly, not to mention his best friend, was too much for Steve. A huge service was made for the first Captain America, and small, intimate funeral was made for the man under the helmet and uniform.

Some things don’t change, though. Three years later, you still show up at the Avengers compound with an idea to reverse things. Time travel was still figured out, and they brought everyone back without any major casualties. You still fell in love with Captain America, and he with you. It was just a different person wearing the mantle.

Bucky died less than a year later. His last words were “till the end of the line, pal”.

It was odd to see a timeline where you never met Steve. “Honestly, it was better this way”, he commented when you pointed that out. “I really don’t want to see if we’re meant to be when I’m over 100 years old. I’ll gladly let this version of you be with my grandson instead.”

“He looks better than you, punk”, Bucky added. “Must be the addition of Peggy’s genes and mine.”

“Your alternate wife also helped”, Natasha agreed.

They laughed. “That was the last one”, Strange said after they stopped laughing. “I’m not doing this again.”

You smiled anyway. “Thank you, Strange. It was fun to watch, especially among friends.”

He nodded and gave you a tiny smile in return.

We’re nearly finished! All that’s left is the epilogue. I plan on writing it to be cute <3

#Steve Rogers #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #marvel imagine #peggy carter #steggy

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captainjimothycarter · 4 years

Note

Peggy bumps into Ms. Fry while she and steve are grocery shopping (maybe Peggy's noticeably pregnant, and she's wearing her wedding ring on a chain around her neck because of swollen fingers, or something like that) and miss fry starts scolding her for her 'poor life choices,' seeing a baby bump and no ring, until steve comes back from grabbing something across the store and they set the record straight

Nonny, I love this so much. I’m gonna be honest, I forgot who Ms. Fry was and had to look her up and have never written her before so bear with me? This is so not gonna be what you want. I just...couldn’t stop writing.

Insert Steve works at the SSR

The day that her wedding ring became too small for her swollen fingers was a day Peggy didn’t like to remember. It was a simple gold wedding band with sapphire blue stones right dab in the middle. It was elegant, yet simple, and everything Peggy could’ve wanted. She didn’t care much for jewelry and didn’t care if Steve asked her to marry her with just a piece of twine or even nothing in his hand.

She would’ve said yes either way.

It was Steve who suggested they put it on a chain, so she could still have it near her while at work. It felt odd not having it on her hand, missing the weight of it, but she felt grateful for her fingers to be free while she poured over the stacks of files the SSR boys kept dropping off thanks to officially being taken off of field missions by no more than Phillips himself.

The man had come down from DC to discuss things with her, taking over as Chief of their simple office, and causing much ruckus and rifling through the workplace. Rumors of the SSR being disbanded started to take place, rumors Peggy ignored.

Agents like Thompson and Sousa got to see first hand how just Colonel Phillips and Agent Carter got along. Meaning there were many shouting matches between them, at one point Peggy had threatened to throw Phillips out of the office himself. The entire office had sat and watched their fight go down, making bets on when Carter was going to be sacked or not until Phillips broke out into a rare smile and laughed at her.

It was odd, to see such a chiseled and grave man from all he’s witnessed to laugh at her like that. And for Carter not to get angry and laugh right back.

There were many rumors on favoritism and Peggy didn’t bother to shoot them down. Phillips did favor her but not for what laid between her legs, for the fact she did her damn job, and two times as better as any seasoned agent.

Of course, none of them would believe that.

“Go home,” Phillips sighed at her for an unkempt time that day. He stood in front of her desk, wafting a freshly brewed cup of coffee in her face.

Peggy scowled at him, her eyes narrowed. She knew she looked like crap. Morning sickness meant she’d spent a good portion of the daily debriefing in the toilet and had to be caught up by Rose. Her face was pale and sheen with sweat, her normally poised hair was done in a hasty bun on the nape of her neck to keep it out of the way.

And her clothes, something so simple and precious to her, that made the point of the matter that she was a woman and she wasn’t going to let any others treat her different. Due to being heavily pregnant with what the doctor assumed were multiples, she’d been forced to adjust many of her outfits. Ana had struggled to adapt so quickly too, but even then she couldn’t keep up.

Steve, her, and even Howard had suspicions on if this was multiples or because of the serum.

Point is, Peggy was still cursing Steve’s name with the infant hit the right spot on her bladder.

She’d been forced to wear a hastily put-together outfit that did nothing for her figure and the lack of either time or ability to keep up her appearance showed.

And what really showed as her face turned a shade of green from the coffee wafting in her face, was her annoyance at Phillips. He knew one of her triggering scents was coffee. It had been mostly banned from the bullpen.

He’d been trying to get her to go home all morning, each time she ignored him.

“I’m afraid I can’t,” she mused, leaning far back as her seat allowed. “No one else is here to do the paperwork with the 084 in Manhattan. Get that out of my face.”

She brushed his hand out of the way and Phillips smirked around the mug. “This?” He waved it under her nose and Peggy’s lips pursed to prevent herself from upchucking what little breakfast she could keep down. “It’s just coffee, Carter. Besides, Thompson’s on the way back, he can handle the paperwork. You’re too sick to be here.”

“With all due respect, sir, I feel perfectly fine.” The humph from him said otherwise. “I do. I can handle doing my job. Especially if Thompson is going to take over, I assume you don’t want these properly filled out, do you? Or legible.”

“Fine isn’t upchucking in the communal toilet loud enough that we can all hear it. You’re pregnant, Peggy. There’s more than just you to worry about.” He set the coffee on her desk and leaned over, not threatening her space. He knew how quick she could move, pregnant or not, and didn’t desire his own beverage in his face. “I already called Rogers - he’s on the way to come pick you up. As of today, you’re on maternity leave. We can converse over the phone the finer details of what that entails, plus your ideas later.”

Peggy’s heart sunk straight to her stomach. Maternity leave. She’d avoided it long as she could, despite how she needed the rest, wanted the rest. She didn’t need this used against her what so ever by the SSR boys when she came back.

“My ideas can be discussed as normal after office hours.”

“For Christ Sake, Carter!” Phillips groaned and rolled his eyes. “I can see why you and Rogers make a good pair - you’re both too stubborn for your own good. We will discuss the installments later.”

The hard look in his eyes told Peggy she wasn’t winning this and part of her, a large part of her actually didn’t want to fight this either. Phillips had taken over for a reason - a big reason, long before Peggy had revealed she was pregnant. This had been planned for so long, between them, and taking the first few steps carefully would be crucial to them.

“Traitor,” she grumbled, seeing the entrance door opened and a familiar broad figure standing there, no doubt with a cup of ginger tea.

Steve knew her so well.

“Never been so glad to be called a traitor in my life. Rogers, get your wife, and take her home. Make sure she stays there. If you’re so back in this office without my permission before that little squirt is born, Carter, there will be hell to pay.”

With that being said, Peggy found herself being lead down the exit elevator, sipping on the tea. She avoided Steve’s smugged look.

“Told you so,” he mused, wrapping her in one of his larger coats as they braced the cold wind outside. The tea did nothing to warm her up, but plenty of her belly as he sat her in the passenger seat. She’d long have to give up the ability to drive with her belly.

“Say that again and you’ll be sleeping on the couch. I don’t need to hear it,” Peggy snapped, instantly regretting it at Steve’s pouting look. “I’m sorry, darling, I am just irritated.”

“I know you are.” His hand slid over hers and squeezed before he started the car. “Phillips is just worried, hence I was taken off of duty with the Commandos a while back. He wants me near you in case something happened. Least this way you can relax and slowly plan the aspects of SHIELD.”

Peggy made a noise in the back of the throat, agreeing with Steve. Her eyes falling to the snow and ice outside the window.

“We need to stop at the store and get groceries if we’re to be inside for so long.”

If Steve disagreed, he said nothing as he made a turn to head to the nearest store.

Insisting she could walk, Peggy brushed off Steve’s concerned hand and held her own to her belly when there were kicking and movement.

She could feel Steve’s eyes on them as they walked the aisles, commenting on the price of peanut butter or bread. The smell of the fish Steve was looking at made her naughtius and this time, unavoidable urge to get sick, having her running to the bathroom.

“I’m getting some more ginger,” Steve commented when Peggy emerged, using the end of his sleeve to clean some of the sweat from her face. “And licorice. Don’t make that face, it’s good for you.”

“It’s disgusting, is what it is, but I’ll take anything at this point,” she sighed, rubbing over her belly again. “You go do that and I’ll get the tea and sugar.”

At least watching Steve walk away left Peggy with a view that reminded her as to how she got pregnant in the first place.

The last she expected to find when she waddled down the aisle, Steve having taken the cart, was a familiar face. The last familiar face she wanted to see. Ms. Fry.

She hadn’t seen her since she’d told the old coon that she was leaving the Griffith and the woman had gone on some bizarre tantrum about Peggy ruining her life, hanging around men who would do nothing but bring her down, needed to settle down, and find a husband, to train herself to do this and that. And how she was going nowhere, the same with Angie…

It made Peggy want to roll her eyes and avoid the woman but she wanted the tea and to go home and put her damn feet up.

The second she was in the aisle, the woman spotted her. Eyes lit up and trained on her.

“What do we have here?” Her voice was downright sneering and Peggy didn’t miss it as she turned to look at her.

“Hello to you too, Ms. Fry. I’m surprised you remember me,” Peggy replied cooly.

“I don’t forget the rift raft rulebreaking ones, darling. I always remember their faces.” The term darling was anything but endearing. “I see I was right.”

“About what?” When the woman just looked down at her hand on her belly and back up at Peggy with that grin, the brunette scoffed.

“Still unladylike as ever, I see. Well, which one was it?” When Peggy didn’t respond and just raised a brow, the woman scoffed. “Which one? Whose the unknown father of your child? Or do you just not know and slept around with far too many of those agents you work with?”

Before Peggy could respond, Ms. Fry seemed to be on that tantrum again, “You always did make the poor life choices. Always going out, past hours, or before hours. Always stealing food for the other residents who never bothered to even show up for mealtime. You were always running around, flirting and flaunting with men. A woman doesn’t do that! Now look at you, not even having the decency to marry one of the fellas that knocked you up. You’ve made some poor life choices here, dolly and they’re going to bite you in the can. And I suppose that while you’re here, buying the cheaper version of that tea, that you’ve lost your job too. No one is going to hire a pregnant lass and certainly not hire a single mother. Your best bet is to drop that kid off at the orphanage and to marry the first fella who makes eye contact with you. That poor kid…”

Peggy was seeing red, her chest aching. She didn’t even know when to start, where to start, with what to counter. To yell at this old hag to prove how wrong she was.

Now Peggy never considered herself a damsel in distress. She never needed to be saved, she could handle herself perfectly fine but just this once, she was glad to see Steve strutting down the aisle behind them. She knew that look, had seen it a hundred times during the war, and a hundred times after during his exports with the Commandos or running strategics for the SSR.

The set jawline, the determined look in his eyes, the fierce look that followed after. The way his shoulders were set back and his knuckles turning white around the cart, despite he’d never dare to hurt someone. Even if the thought just barely crossed his mind in a fit of blind anger that came when to defending his wife.

He said nothing to Ms. Fry, even nothing to Peggy. Dropping the cart so it hit the floor, the contents jostling inside. He cupped the small of Peggy’s back before dipping her down for a long and hearty kiss that reminded the brunette why she loved the man in the first place.

Her hand laid on his chest and felt his strong heartbeat underneath, feeling his lips smile against hers as she was settled on her feet. Her necklace with her wedding band on it had come out of the contents of her shirt and laid right in the open.

“Good afternoon to you too, Ms. Fry,” Steve mused as if they hadn’t just made out in front of her. “I see you’re still doing just as lovely. I’m afraid I never got to introduce myself, by the time I was found, and set for duty, Miss Carter and I had eloped and moved in together.”

He didn’t offer his hand to her, just a shit-eating grin as he grabbed at their basket. The woman was still staring at them, blinking slowly as if to put this all together.

“You see, you’re wrong on many accounts. Peggy does what in the hell she wants, when she wants because she wants to. No one can control her. Not her mother, not me, and certainly not you. Those ideas she puts in the other girl’s head at your home? Those were there, to begin with. You’d be surprised what goes on under your nose,” Steve snorts. “Top it off. The only bad choice in life Peggy has ever made was perhaps to marry me.”

Peggy gently smacked his chest, drawing herself out of her thoughts. “It was not. I love you, darling.”

Steve caught her hand and kissed it. “I love you too.” He looked back at Ms Fry and shrugged. “You were lucky to have Peggy under your roof for the short time you did and I’m lucky I was able to get her back. So, no you’re wrong. She hasn’t been knocked by any of those Agents, just me. We’re expecting our first in an already paid off home, one I’ve been remodeling while Peggy still worked. She’s only just starting maternity leave today, actually. We just came by to pick up a few essentials.”

He waved the basket in her face with a small laugh. “So Peggy’s ‘bad choices’ in life had actually turned around great for her. She has a promising career, a loving husband, and a household full of kids, and love. In fact, not that it’s your business, but Peggy will actually be working while I stay at home to take care of the children. Perhaps not to your ideals of traditionalism but…”

Steve shrugged before taking Peggy’s arm. Before either could say goodbye, they left. He plopped the tea box from Peggy’s fingers and tossed it into the cart.

“And the only reason you did get the cheap box was that the others give you a headache,” Steve scoffed, once they’d unloaded the groceries at the house. He watched Peggy from across the way, her feet settled into a bucket of warm water, with a towel around the back of her neck, her hand cradling her belly.

Peggy looked up from across the way and into their kitchen, seeing Steve staring at her from across the breakfast nook. “How long do you think it’ll be until she figures out you’re Captain America?”

Steve snorted as he brought his wife her cup of ginger tea and sat down with a book in his lap beside her. He’d been reading it to her for the past week. “With luck, she’s still standing in the aisle, looking confused.”

#Steggy #StevePeggy #Ms. Fry #Phillips & Steve #Colonel Phillips #Steve Rogers #Peggy Carter smut #Pregnant Peggy #Steve works at the SSR

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teaandatale · 4 years

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Steggy and 'I Didn't Mean to Turn You On'

86. ‘I Didn’t Mean to Turn You On’

Ummm… You definitely meant to get a 2k+ fic out of this didn’t you? Omg. Anyway.

I’m not sure if you meant to pick a second AU or if this onewas good enough but if you’d like to send a follow up for another “I didn’tmean to turn you on” that you’d like to see paired with another AU feel free tohit me up again 😊

Here is what my brain jumped to and please please thank @dorrinverrakai1 for being a muse extraordinaire and making this become what it did. (There is quite a bit of backstory that goes to this that didnt make it into the ficlet fyi.)

I’m placing it under a cut because again… This grew legs from just being an answer to a tumblr meme…

Phillips’ annual Christmas party is a thing of legend aroundthe office. It’s always a grand affair, hosted at his mansion and everyoneknows that if you want to be someone in the company, if you show up, make agood impression, compliment the host and his wife’s hospitality, you have areal good shot at a corner office sooner or later.

For Steve, who was ambitious enough, but didn’t feel theneed to grease palms solely at a company party for his own selfish benefit, itwas an opportunity to spend some quality time out of the office with the girlof his dreams.

But the evening hadn’t gone on like he had planned, not afterthe flirtation between him and Peggy the day before back at the office. Whereshe had mentioned she had bought a spectacular new red dress just for the occasion,and then inquired about what he was going to wear. And how he promised her adrink. And that if there was dancing maybe a dance or two to go with that. And herlips had turned up and she said nothing for a moment as she regarded him.

“I will see you tomorrow night then Steve,” she said inpromise.

He’d never been so thrilled. He and Peggy had become goodfriends, and he was pretty sure their interactions would be considered flirtingon several occasions, but he’d never really had a good chance at pursuingsomething more.

But then he doesn’t spot Peggy at the party right away. Andwhen he finally does, she’s standing in a corridor whispering hurriedly with Phillips,and at her side holding her hand was a young girl of seven or eight years old. Thegirl teeters on her heels and leans her head against Peggy’s hip. He knows Peggywas close to Phillips and his family, he thinks that her parents were closefriends of his. The scene doesn’t seem like one he should interrupt soreluctantly he turns away and heads toward the catered food.

He doesn’t spot Peggy again for another half an hour, butshe’s over talking to several of their important German clients so he knows hecan’t interrupt that either. A bit disappointed, he decides to take a little tourof the place and heads up the stairs where one of the bar stations was set up,but heads towards the giant Christmas trees that flank a large bay window witha lookout. He’s passing the bar he overhears something that makes him stop inhis tracks.

“Can you believe she would bring her kid to an event likethis?” It’s Thompson, his least favorite guy in the office, talking with DanielSousa, both men holding generously filled glasses of whiskey.

He’s filled with rage at the dismissive and insulting tone ofthe comment.

“It’s a little embarrassing…” Sousa agrees, somewhat reluctantly.

“A little embarrassing? For fuck’s sake, you don’t bring yourkid to a company event period. And you definitely don’t saddle the fucking CEOof the company with your brat because you remembered you have to network with yourmost important clients.” He was ready to punch Thompson right then and thereeven before he hurled another blow that surprised Steve. “Classic Marge. She’s alwaysgetting a little too big for her britches. She should really learn about babysitters.”

He knows Thompson’s reputation for talking shit, so though thesurprise stuns him, he knows better than to believe gossip from his mouth.Still, he’d have felt the same way if it was Peggy’s child or not.

“That’s very wise advice from you Jack,” Steve says, “assomeone who doesn’t have kids, and given the way you talk may never findsomeone who would choose to have them with you.”

Thompson snorts derisively. “I don’t suffer from lack ofinterest unlike some people Rogers. Anyway I wasn’t talking to you.”

“Doesn’t matter who you were talking to when we can all hearyou badmouthing a coworker. Real classy. Definitely the way you’re going toearn brownie points in the office. And don’t pretend you know anything aboutchildcare or shame someone for doing the best they can to take care of theirchildren. Parenthood doesn’t just stop because you have to work. Do you knowhow many times I spent at the hospital when my mom was on shift because she hadno alternative? Parents do what they have to. I’m sure if there was a better orsafer option it would have been taken. And even if it wasn’t, it’s not ourbusiness. It’s not like anyone is asking you to babysit huh?”

“Fuck off Rogers.”

He rolls his eyes. “Original. Do me a favor and don’t let mehear you say shit like that again. I’m prefer not to ruin your night becauseyou can’t shut your mouth.”

He storms past not waiting for Jack’s response. It’s notuntil he’s right next to the ornate Christmas tree that he realizes the baywindow is occupied. On the wide cushioned seat, sits Phillips and at his sideis the little girl with a book. He doesn’t mean to interrupt but Phillips makeseye contact with him and it would be rude not to say hello to the host.

“Mr. Phillips,” he says, voice still a little surprised. “It’snice to see you.”

Phillips smiles at him. They’ve gotten along the few timesthey’ve interacted. “Steve. Are you enjoying the party?”

He nods. “You’ve got a beautiful house. It’s so warm andfestive.”

“I like all the Christmas trees,” the little girl saysproudly. “There are eight in the house this year because I’m eight years oldthis year,” she tells him.

“Wow! You must be very special to get as many Christmas treesas your age,” Steve tells the girl who grins at him. “Which one is yourfavorite?”

She stands up from the seat and bounces on her heels thenpoints below past the ledge that looks down at the first floor. There in themiddle of the large dining room is the largest Christmas tree in the place.

“The big, big one! How tall was it again Grandpa Phillips?”

The man chuckles. “Sixteen footer. The tallest we’ve everhad you my girl.”

She grins at him. And the sight is a wonder to Steve who hasnever quite witnessed Phillips act so soft. It’s sweet. “We’re reading aChristmas Carol. Do you know it?” The girl asks Steve.

“Oh yes! I know it well. My mom and I used to read it everyChristmas together.”

“Used to? You don’t like to read it anymore?”

He hesitates. “Oh no I would. I do. Except, my mom… She uhpassed away a few years ago. I still think of her every time I read it though.”He hopes that’s not too heavy for an eight year old.

The girl’s eyes widen and she nods very seriously. Then she grinswidely at him again and jumps up from the bench. “Well then you can read itwith me! I’m a very good reader for my age.”

Phillips laughs. “Yes you are Maggie girl. But I’m sureSteve is interested in getting back to the party darling.”

He’s about to retort when Phillips’ wife rushes over. “Thereyou two are,” she starts. “Honey, I know you asked not to be bothered but Zimmermangroup has arrived and there’s the toast to be given.”

Phillips and his wife exchange a look while Maggie flipspages in her book.

“I’d be happy to keep Maggie company,” he finds himselfoffering. “She did promise me we could read a Christmas Carol together.”

“Oh that would be lovely! You’re Steve yes? Steve Rogers?”Phillips’ wife asks with a bright, relieved smile.

“Are you sure Steve?”

“Of course.”

“I’ll be back in half an hour Maggie my girl, okay? Youthink you can entertain Steve here for that long?”

The girl nods and shoves the book into Steve’s hand. “Is yourname short for anything Steve?” she asks him once the Phillips’ are gone.

He laughs. He likes how bold the girl is. “It’s short forSteven, but no one really calls me that.”

“My name is short for Margaret. Margaret Jr. to be exact,” shetells him with a smile.

Steve freezes for a moment. Can she really be Peggy’s daughter?Had he really never known that Peggy was a mother? He panics as he tries to rememberif she had every told him that information before. But he doesn’t have muchtime to ponder it as the girl demands he help do the voices. So he findshimself crying out “Bah Humbug” at increasingly dramatic tones once he findsMaggie finds it hilarious. Her little sweet giggles are infectious. So theyread, and occasionally Maggie will stop to ask questions about a hard word, orwhat he thinks of Scrooge, or to tell him what she wants for Christmas. He losestrack of time.

It’s definitely more than a half hour that’s passed whenfootsteps approach them. It’s a wild-eyed Peggy and she seems at a loss forwords.

“There you are my darling!” Peggy calls out, and Maggierushes towards her in a massive hug.

“Steve and I were reading together,” she tells Peggy. He noticesPeggy is staring at him.

Before he can say anything or explain, a second womanapproaches.

“Mommy!” Maggie cries out and rushes for the other woman.

“Hiya Margaret my baby girl. Did you have fun at GrandpaPhillips’ party? Oh Peggy I can’t thank you enough again. Wait who is this?”

Peggy, who had still been staring peculiarly at Steve,clears her throat. “Sorry, Angie. This is Steve. Steve Rogers. Steve this is mybest friend Angie.”

“Ohhhh!” Angie grins and throws Peggy a wink. “Steve Rogershuh?”

Peggy ignores her. “Steve was very generous enough to sitwith Margaret.”

Little Margaret bounces on her toes excitedly. “Mommy! Hisname is short for Steven. Did you know that? Steven.” She repeats his full nameas if enjoying the sound of it. It makes him smile. “And he does really goodvoices. Almost as good as yours mommy.”

“Now that’s a high compliment from my baby girl,” Angietells him, this time winking at him.

“That big of a compliment huh? Well I’m honored,” he tellsMaggie.

“Baby tell Peggy and Steve goodnight, it’s way past your bedtimenow.”

She hugs Peggy first, but then Steve is surprised to findthe girl come rush over to hug him. “Thanks for being my friend Steve. Maybe wecan read together again next year.”

“You got it,” he swears, because how could he not?

He notices Angie shoot Peggy another look before the twodisappear. He then notices that Peggy is back to staring at him. And this timehe thinks he realizes what kind of a stare it is she’s giving him. He feels alittle warm in his suit all of a sudden. He needs a way to break the silence.

“I didn’t mean to turn you on,” he finds himself sayinghelplessly.

It’s the strangest, boldest statement coming from him. But onelook at Peggy’s face and he’s a helpless mess. Her stare is so pointed and fullof heat he’s pretty sure he’s blushing. Her interest is so open, and full of…he feels like a fool but he hopes he’s correct recognizing it as desire. Theway that she bites her lip, the way her pupils are dilated and how she keepstracking not only his face but lingering all over his body.

“I—“ he tries to backtrack but his mouth is so dry and hergaze only seems to grow darker, her tongue flicking out to wet her red lips andSteve is unable to breath. He swallows hard. Who is turning who on exactly?

He finally gets a chance to take a good long look at her,something he’s been dying to do all night. Her dress, a deep red that matchesher lipstick accentuates every curve in her body in a way that makes Steve’sbreaths a little quicker. He can’t stop looking her over. She is magnificent. Agoddess. And it makes him giddy, as her presence has always made him. He wantsto feel the fabric of her dress, wants to see if it’s soft or silky.

“Oh you weren’t, were you?” she asks, her voice laced with disbeliefand amusement. “You mean to tell me that you didn’t get dressed in that well-tailoredtux and choose a red tie and pocket square?”

He gulps at the way she looks him over once more. “Well youmentioned you were going to wear red… so…”

“So you took it upon yourself to remember that fact and considerit when getting dressed.”

She looks so pleased that he’s confused for a moment. Ofcourse he listened to her. And if she was going to wear red why wouldn’t hewant to match her?

“And then you didn’t just so gracefully offer to reprievePhillips and watch my beloved Goddaughter and have her so enjoy your companyshe now calls you her friend?”

He clears his throat. “She’s a great kid. I didn’t know shewas your Goddaughter.”

Peggy takes a step closer. “You do realize that only makes youeven more attractive?” Her voice is lower and deeper and she’s close enough nowthat he could count every one of her eyelashes.

He licks his lips. “I um… Well… For a while there I thought shewas your kid. And didn’t know if I had forgotten that you told me you had adaughter.”

She laughs, the sound still low that it leaves him longing anddesperately he wants to lean into her, breathe her in.

“That wouldn’t be because Thompson was gossiping huh?”

He freezes. “How did you know about that?”

“Jarvis overhead him at the bar. He told me you gave him atongue-lashing of spectacular proportions.” He can only shrug. “So you can’timagine that a well-dressed man that I was already fond of, not only deftly defendedmy honor without making it about me, but spent time at a company Christmasparty making Maggie giggle uncontrollably.”

She’s standing so close, as close as he had fantasized abouthappening at this party.

“I…” He bows his head. He wants to believe her, wants to believethat any of that would make him attractive in her eyes. But she’s Peggy and asuperstar in her own right, and she’s oh so pretty he could cry. “If you likethat sort of thing,” he mumbles.

“I do,” she murmurs, tilting her head, her left hand coming upto press against his jaw. He can feel her body against his. “Now kiss mealready.”

There’s no refuting that. He flicks his gaze down at her,the adoring smile, her wide pupils. He places both hands on the back of herneck and kisses her hard, hard enough to make her gasp. The hand at his jawwanders up and cards through his hair. And oh he has never kissed anyone quitelike this. Full of fireworks and wonder and longing for more and more and more.She presses herself closer and they don’t stop kissing. He never ever wants tostop.

Eventually they part, both gasping and catching theirbreaths.

“Well…” she starts, still steadying her breathing, handsstill tracing over his face and neck, “I really thought we were going to needmistletoe to get you to kiss me tonight.”

He grins and pulls her in for another kiss.

#ckerouac #steggy #my fic #omg i didn't expect this to be a thing #but tis my curse #but i hope you enjoy it??

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