#our steggy week n&a

[pentaghastx]

A Golden Sight in The Darkest Place

For @steggyfanevents Steggy week 2023, Day 2 WIPs & updates One shot written by @thesongofthegreens Photo edited by me @pentaghastx Brief summary: During WWII, Steve wanders off to have a moment alone, however, on top of hill outside the trenches, he finds a beautiful sight that makes him forget about everything around him... just for a moment. Note: This piece was a WIP for a while but we managed to finish it for Steggy week! I always wanted to do a collaborative piece with Artemis where I edited a photo based off their writing, I am so glad I was able to pump this out with them! The photo is mixed in with the writing so keep reading for a surprise that I am very proud of! Read it on Ao3 here!

Thank you for reading! ——— ✴︎ ——— It had been early April, in France. Behind them, there were the remains of all the trenches from the Great War; some trenches still remained, shrapnel and all. At times, the men wandered into them and found trinkets to send home - Steve didn’t blame them. They were sitting ducks for the moment, waiting for orders that were days late.

In those few days, he had wondered if the supposed messenger was dead somewhere, orders tucked safely away, but no closer to his troop than before. He then let himself wonder if he would have to push the company forward, without orders. He would rather push than wait and lose their chance. The mission that was before them could only wait so long, with Schmidt on the move and attempting to make a new base anywhere that could be found, and Hitler's troops scattered in nearly every crevice to be found.

When the sun began to slip under the hill, he had made up his mind: if the messenger did not come by tomorrow night, he would send the men forward into the unknown territory and fight with all the might that they had left.

Rather than stare at the night sky and stay in open territory, he decided to have the men settle into the bunkers, shielding them from weather that might come, or the enemies that might wander. He split his men into three groups, sending each to a different bunker with a radio and a code word to send to those who were on watch.

The first code word was taste, the second being teach, and the final word was tenor. Of course, these were already code words that their troop knew, as well as other American troops, but the enemy would be in the dark, if their line had been intercepted, so long as it was used in a proper sentence.

If the word was wrong, or there was no check in amongst the bunkers every few hours, a secondary call would be made, and then arms would be taken up. He hoped it would not come to that.

After searching the trenches and assessing that there were no threats waiting, the groups dispersed for the night and to hopefully catch a few hours.

The bunkers were empty, but the bunks for soldiers were still there; some had thin mattresses that were covered in a thick layer of dust and grime, even long dried blood from their former owners. Many had only large springs that would dig into someone all night, but keep them high above mold and rats. For most of his men, as long as their pack was against their backs, they could sleep nearly anywhere.

Someone had saved a bunk for him, one of the few with a mattress in half decent condition, as he was the highest ranking among them and meant to lead them into possible battle. As grateful as he was for the gesture, it felt wrong to have been given the mattress when many around him hadn’t been blessed with such rank by powerful serums and mere coincidence.

He left the mattress out and let the men decide who would be next in line for it, settling against his own leather jacket as a pillow until he would take his watch.

He fell asleep to the first signal from bunker two.

05:00 HOURS

He had finished taking his watch a few hours ago, but sleep did not come so easily the second time. He would have to move the men today, without orders or a clear way in. The troops would understand, but he doubted they would be content with the fact that he had moved without a single word coming from the higher ups. They wouldn't mind later, when they, hopefully, celebrated a victory.

Sitting on the springs of his bunk, he could see the light pouring in from the opening of the bunker, inviting him to go out for fresh air, to think over his choices. He took the bait, stopping by the last man on watch and picking up the radio to haul along with him.

As he stepped out of the bunkers and into the trenches, he spared one thought to his father, to how he had died in a trench somewhere, his body left to rot and only a few bones to send home. Steve wondered if his father had even been afraid of death when it came, or if it had been a relief in the face of living more and more days in hell.

Shaking away the thought, he found a slope and climbed it, standing above the trench and taking in a deep breath. The crisp morning air filled his lungs, just as it did in New York, when the fall rain had just swept in. If he closed his eyes, he could imagine Brooklyn and the cars passing down the street. He let himself dream of it, just for a moment, when no one could see him.

Despite the fact that he was sure he hadn’t bathed in a few weeks and he hadn’t eaten more than a few spare crumbs over the last few days, he felt peace.

But he was not alone, nor the first in the sunlight.

Under a cherry blossom tree lingered a figure, with the same color of uniform as himself, though quite different from the men around him - being as she was a woman. But even in a room full of women, she would have stood out, her brown curls framing her face and gently swaying in the wind.

It had been weeks since he had seen her hair out of its usual styling; he assumed part of it was the inability to wash it regularly while they scouted France. And yet… he would have thought she had just stepped from a movie screen.

The cherry blossom petals fell in her hair as the wind continued to move over the land, almost as if to form a crown. She laughed, looking up at them and giving her head a shake before looking down to her journal. A compass was settled on top of the page, her perfectly manicured fingers holding it in place. She was a piece of Heaven on Earth, he was certain of it.

After some gawking that he knew his men would have laughed at, he checked behind him, checking in the trench lines for anyone who might have seen. When there was no one, he moved forward, as if he were already on the mission rather than a few feet away. It was only a few strides before he was right in front of her, wishing to say something poetic.

All that came out of his mouth was, "Am I ruining your sunlight?" You’re a damn fool, just like the rest of ‘em, he thought, before she looked up to him. A smile spread onto her red lips and he knew he was ruined. His heart might as well have been signed, sealed, and delivered to her doorstep… or at least to her bunk.

He shared her smile, sitting next to her, and setting the radio at his feet. Soon enough, the men would be waiting for the moment he would announce that they would be pursuing the mission. But the news would come soon enough. He began picking a few petals from her hair, rubbing them between his fingers. “If you’re not careful, you’re gonna sprout a tree,” he teased, tossing them to her lap, suddenly wishing he’d saved a few petals for his own journal, to press between the pages and remember her, even if his memory was shot after all the years.

“Oh hush, Rogers. You’re interrupting my thoughts.” Her words were sharp, but her voice remained honey; he could have grown drunk on it, if his body would let him - perhaps he already was, with such thoughts swimming around in his mind.

Silence fell over them, but her pen had not started again, not yet. Her attention was on him, and he knew what she was waiting to hear. He picked at the grass, closing his eyes and wishing for one more day. Just another day and he wouldn’t be leading his men to a slaughter. Or it would come for them anyway and he would be a fool. “We have to move them or we’ll lose the Germans, or worse - Schmidt.” At this point, he wasn’t sure if he was facing Hydra or Hitler everywhere he went - both stood in the way of the freedom he was fighting to protect. “And all I can think about is leading them to a troop who may just kill us all.”

He sighed, opening his eyes to find brown eyes waiting for him, already softened and as warm as the sun behind them. “If anyone can lead us in, give them hell, and come out of it, it would be you, Steve. You’ve already accomplished it many times and I have no doubt you’ll do it a few dozen times more.” She paused, pursing her lips before leaning closer. “This is what I knew you were meant for, since the day I saw you jump on that grenade. I always knew you would do great things, with or without a vial of blue liquid.”

It might have been the wind, the stupidity he held within him, or the petals in her hair, but he leaned in as well, his hand cupping her cheek, and turning her head slightly. Their lips met, softly, before her hand curled into the collar of his uniform. At the same moment, his other hand pulled her closer to him by her waist. Though neither of them dared to say it, they both knew it may have been the last one they would share before they marched to their demise. It was that thought that sent him chasing after her mouth when she pulled away, a soft chuckle escaping her before she gave in.

She must have shared the thought too.

Right as his lungs were set to burst, their kiss broke, and both of his hands moved to rest against her cheeks, cradling her as if she were the last treasure he held in this world. A current sent white blossoms floating down to both of them, a small smile spreading on his lips. “If we survive this, Peggy Carter, I’m going to marry you.”

#steggyweek23 #steggy #peggy carter #steve rogers #steggywrites #novaandartemiswrites #novawrites #artemiswrites #our steggy week n&a #captain america

[3pirouette]

Fic: The Captain and The Missus (3/?)

Title: The Captain and The Missus 

By: TriplePirouette/3Pirouette

Spoilers: AU of CA:TFA

Disclaimer: They're not mine.

Distribution: AO3 Anyone else please ask first :) 

Story Summary: Instead of wanting to recreate the serum, Schmidt wants every trace of it wiped from existence so he can be the sole one to benefit from it. This means that Steve’s life is in danger, and Peggy’s new job is to keep him alive as he travels in hiding with the USO tour. 

Story A/N: AU of CA: TFA, based on @roboticonography’s idea of having Peggy go on tour with Steve as “Mrs. America”

(Robot’s post HERE: https://3pirouette.tumblr.com/post/654017864817360896/steggy-24-49)

SO... Yes. yes, it's true. I've somehow managed to only update this once a year during the past three years for Steggy Week. At least I'm consistent.

For 2023, this satisfies Steggy Week Day 2: WIPs and Updates.

Chapter 3: Getting on the Right Track

Summary: Peggy and Steve are off on their adventure, but she’ll need to start relying on him just as much as she wants him to rely on her if this is going to work.

A/N: Yes. I’ve now posted one chapter a year for three years in a row for Steggy Week. It’s become tradition. I think a lot of it has to do with this story really just coming slow. I love it, but it’s not flowing as nicely as I’d like it to, so when I get to Steggy Week, I see the WIP category, and go “oh! I should update that!”

So, yeah. Please be kind about it.

~*~

Peggy huffed as she sat on the bench, sliding over to make room for him, irritated. “I’m already not liking this.”

Steve settled softly, trying to tuck his body into a space that used to seem roomy to his 90-pound self, and now seemed cramped for his new body. “The seat?” He turned and looked up the aisle. “I can ask the conductor if there’s—"

“No, no,” she interrupted him, setting her bag on her lap and playing with the edge. “Playing the nagging wife. ‘Oh, do be gentle! My grandmother’s china is in there! Please keep that on the bottom, men, I don’t want it tipping. Oh, could you do me a favor and make sure all our trunks are labeled? Couldn’t lose one, you know!’” She huffed again, looking over at him, dropping her voice to a whisper. “Those men nearly dropped that entire trunk full of ammunition and finely tuned decoders!”

Steve looked alarmed and dropped his voice, leaning in to her. “Could they have exploded?”

She pressed her lips and turned away for a moment, trying not to be angry for his ignorance. “No,” she mumbled, looking back, “But we won’t get another chance at getting more decoders or half of the other kit in there if something breaks or de-calibrates. It won’t explode, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t delicate.”

Steve nodded, letting the information settle for a moment. “I was a little curious why you were being so specific about them.”

Peggy glanced around the sparsely populated car, still caught up in her anxiety. The car ride to the train station had been quiet, which she had hoped came across as contentment, but it was really more her nerves than anything. “I understand why we couldn’t take a transport, but I’d take a well-trained private over a single one of those brutes tossing around our luggage any day. I felt like I was running basic training all over again out there. Everyone on this train must think you’re horribly hen-pecked.”

For a moment she saw that 90-pound man reemerge as he twiddled his thumbs and his jaw opened and closed as he tried to come up with an answer that would appease her. It was enough to crack the wall of growing anxiety and soften her just a little bit. She took pity on him and set her hand on his to stop the fidgeting. “I’m being ridiculous.” She started another sentence, but had to turn away as she yawned, big and wide, into her elbow.

“Tired?” Steve asked, his fingers almost, but not quite, holding her hand.

She sighed, turning back to him as the train rumbled to life under them. “A bit. Had trouble sleeping last night.”

“Why don’t you take a nap?” He shrugged, half smiling. “We’ve got, what… six hours?”

Peggy clicked her tongue behind her teeth and pulled her hand back, sitting tall. “That’s exactly why I can’t take a nap.” She took a deep breath, looking around the train. “Beginnings and endings of operations are the most dangerous part. Anyone could have followed us here. I can’t let my guard down for a second.”

“Peggy,” he started, almost stern, “there’s barely anyone on this train car. I don’t think that the eighty-year-old woman or the two little kids over there are planning anything nefarious. How could they have figured out our plan and followed us here already?”

She looked at him hard, knowing he was trying to placate her. “How, indeed?” She mused sarcastically, “And how do you think a Hydra Agent managed his way into a top secret SSR bunker to try to kill you and Erskine, hum?” She didn’t mean to be sharp, didn’t mean to open the wound that was still too close to the surface, but the thought still kept her up at night.

That man shouldn’t have been able to get in there. Someone in the SSR was ratting them out to Hydra.

That meant that nothing, nothing they were going to do that anyone else knew about, was safe.

Especially putting Steve in this damn show.

Steve nodded in understanding, shrugging half-heartedly, a shadow passing over his face at the thoughts of what had happened. “I get it, I do.”

“I have to keep you safe.” She replied softly, urgency filling her voice. “I can’t let my guard down, even for a moment.”

“So what?” he didn’t miss a beat, his own eyes accusing now, “You’re not going to ever fall asleep?”

“Well, I—”

He shook his head. “No, Peg. This isn’t one sided.”

She leaned forward, dropping her voice down low, “It’s my job to keep you alive, and I’m damn well not going to—”

He reached over, grabbing her hand. The movement was enough to derail her frustration and turn it to curiosity as he held her left hand up to his. “This, Peg, says we’re partners.” He moved his hands, letting their matching rings shine in the light, smiling a little and letting his own frustration morph to earnestness. “For better or for worse. Like it or not. You and me against the world.”

Peggy didn’t want to admit that the moment, born out of frustration and desperation, was extremely tender, or that she felt a little thrill of excitement at the confident, strong way he took her hand, or that she felt cared for in the soft way that he cradled her hand as he lined up their rings. No, she tried to ignore the fact that his eyes were damn near sparkling as he said those words, filled with all the emotions she was feeling, and maybe even more. She really, really didn’t want to admit that of all the moments in her life, that was the most damn romantic of them all.

“Steve, I…” Her voice drifted away. She wasn’t sure what she wanted to say, but she knew she needed to protest, needed to change this moment before it got way out of hand.

“We’re a team,” he whispered. “The moment we left that base this morning, it was just us. I don’t like to think about the fact that someone has already tried to kill me, and that it’ll probably happen again, and I don’t like thinking about the fact that you’re in that line of fire with me. But you’re here to protect me, and even though no one’s said it before now, I’m saying it and I mean it: I’m protecting you, too.”

Peggy struggled for composure; she tried to keep a straight face when everything inside her was falling apart. She’d never been one for big declarations or sappy sentiments and coming from anyone else, it might have felt trite or overly sugary, but Peggy knew with every fiber of her being that Steve meant it. He well and truly meant it.

She couldn’t remember if anyone had ever said something so simple in such a profound way to her before. She couldn’t remember if she’d ever believed someone so fervently before.

It was a struggle to pull her focus back out, to keep the world from closing in until there was just the two of them, hands cradled together, train bouncing below them as Steve just happened to outdo her ex-fiance’s proposal of marriage in a few earnest words, but she managed it. “Thank you,” she whispered, knowing the words were not enough for the depth of the sentiment he just expressed. She forced the tension to break with a smile, squeezing his hand. “You don’t need to work so hard, Steve, I’ve already married you.”

He chuckled, the heaviness around them lightening almost instantly. He looked away, ears turning red as he whispered into the aisle, “Maybe I’m trying to get you to fall in love with me.”

“Hum?” The questioning sound was out of her throat before she could stop herself. She knew very well what he’d said, but didn’t quite want to believe it. She managed to keep a straight face as he panicked, letting go of her hand and shaking his head.

“Nothing,” he tried to cover, poorly, and forced a nervous smile at her. “You should take a nap, really.”

Her smile only lifted her lips a little as she ducked her head. “To be honest, I don’t know if I could if I wanted to, I’m still so keyed up.”

This time his smile was genuine as he rooted in his pocket to pull out a small paperback. “Offer stands. I don’t need much sleep these days, anyway.”

She watched him, unabashedly, as he turned to the book and flipped through until he found his page. Without thought she reached out, hand wrapping around his wrist to get his attention. He looked at her, but didn’t say anything.

“That meant a lot,” she managed to choke out, uncomfortable with the way the words made her feel exposed, but knowing she needed to make him understand how she felt, “what you said about us. You and me.”

The corner of his mouth ticked up. “Together against the world.”

“Yes,” she could feel the stress start to drain from her. “A team.” She took a slow, deep breath. It was like the worry, the anxiety of the last two days was getting left behind them with each passing second and each mile they put between the base and themselves, but she’d never been more serious. “I’m going to hold up my end, Steve, I promise.”

“I know you will,” he put down the book, flipping his hand and lacing their fingers together. “And I’ll keep up mine.”

~*~

She remembered holding his hand, contentedly, looking out the window and pretending she was watching the landscape pass them by while he read with one hand, but instead took the time to clock each and every passenger, to look them over in the reflection and try to gauge their threat level.

Somewhere after the pre-teen boy three rows up, she realized she had her head on his shoulder. It didn’t much seem to matter, though, as she could still hear him turning pages and they were supposed to be married, after all.

Just after the man two rows back, she thought that she’d just close her eyes for a minute.

Just one.

And five hours later, she woke up tucked into Steve’s side as the train slowed, chugging into the station.

~*~

They were hustled from the station to the theater by a small man with a pinched face, who seemed both annoyed by and indifferent to their presence. He assured them that their trunks would make it to their hotel room safely before he ushered them off the platform and into a small car.

She was both impressed and somewhat relieved that Steve managed to make his own fuss about the trunks as they were ushered off the train, she didn’t even need to speak a word on the subject.

They were quiet in the car, the trip quite a bit longer than they expected. “I thought we were going to be in DC?” Steve asked as the man navigated the streets.

“The show will open in DC, rehearsals are outside of the city,” the man replied. “Your hotel is close to the theater, don’t worry.” He grumbled, mumbling under his breath, “I know you’re worried about your trunks.”

Peggy tried to hold back her smile, but couldn’t. Steve gave her a gentle tap with his elbow, and she acknowledged his performance on the subject with a grateful bow of her head.

“How are you feeling?” He spoke softly. Even though they were bound to be overheard by their driver, who was under no obligation to keep anything he heard a secret, his soft voice went a long way to making the question feel at least a little private.

“Much better,” she replied just as quietly. “Suppose I was more tired than I thought.”

She expected a smile, or maybe a flirt- something he’d been more confident in over the last day- but instead he sobered and dropped his voice even lower. “I’m glad you felt safe enough. I always want you to feel safe with me.”

She couldn’t help but smile this time. “I do.”

~*~

It occurred to Peggy, as she walked into the theater, that she’d never been in one as something other than a patron. She’d gone for films and for the occasional play, even to hear concerts… but she’d never been in a theater where she wasn’t ushered to her seat and treated to a performance.

She was stunned as she followed Steve through the backstage area, stepping over coils of rope and avoiding scattered set-pieces that were half painted and half built. The bright white backstage lights were nothing compared to the colorful performance lights she was used to. She’d always thought theaters seemed too glamorous, so frivolous, and yet, there was exposed, dirty brick and sawdust everywhere. There wasn’t a luxurious velvet curtain in sight and instead it seemed little more than a warehouse with an audience.

It left her with an odd feeling of awareness, as if it was the first time she realized everything she’d seen on a stage really was just smoke and mirrors, sets and rigs and pulleys that made Peter Pan fly and Hamlet’s father rise from the grave. Seeing the lighting rigs bare overhead and the mess of lights and wires and rope on the stage made her feel a peculiar sensation, as if she was seeing something no one was ever meant to see.

“About six feet to the left!”

The shout pulled her out of her thoughts, and immediately reminded her that this was a place that posed an extreme danger for the both of them. The man who was shouting was a rotund man standing just below the stage, eyes on the two workers hanging a large American Flag from the rigging. He shook his head then caught sight of them, only looking slightly interested.

“You must be my headliners!” He gestured for their pinch-faced chauffeur to bring them down the stairs to him. He watched as Steve helped Peggy down the steep steps at the front of the stage with a hand, the raw wood wobbly. “Don’t worry about that,” he bellowed, “They may be unsteady, but they won’t be there for the show. Just while we’re getting the stage set up.” He shot a careful look over to where the men were hanging the flag, “It’s been busy around here since we got the rewrites.”

He held out his hand to Steve, “I’m Walter Pennington, Producer.”

“Steve Rogers,” He shook his hand, pulling back when he saw the man fight to keep a pleasant face at his strength. “And this is my wife, Peggy.”

Peggy knew right away what kind of man he was by the fact that he barely acknowledged her. No handshake, and barely even a nod. Instead, he kept his attention on Steve. It wasn’t that she wasn’t used to being looked over, but rather that it always stung.

“Well, they weren’t lying that you’re strong,” Walter said, flexing his hand a few times. “That’s good.” He took another short glance at Peggy. “We were surprised you’d want to bring the little lady with you, never mind incorporate her into the show.” He laughed, “I’m even more shocked Brandt went for it.”

Steve glanced over at Peggy. Neither of them had been briefed on what, exactly, Brant had told the people who were making the show, and she realized that her nap today really was lost time. They had no story put together and would be making things up as they went- at least for today.

That was always dangerous territory.

“Well, we’re still newlyweds,” Steve managed the reply fairly quickly, pulling Peggy into his side. “How could I leave a gal like this back home?”

She felt Steve’s hand just barely tighten at her shoulder, and she could tell he was just as uncomfortable with the man’s suggestive gaze as she was. “I guess not,” Pennington finally mumbled, though Peggy was sure there was something else he wanted to say.

Walter cleared his throat and finally looked at her face, addressing her directly. “I suppose we can work you into a few of the singing numbers, though that’s really up to the director.”

“I don’t sing,” she declared, arching an eyebrow at the man. His clothes said high class but the way he leered at her proved he hadn’t had a proper upbringing.

“Well, then,” he looked her up and down again, not hiding it, “At least you’ll look good in the kick line.”

Peggy wished she could punch him, the way he looked at her reminiscent of far too many men who thought they were better than her. She could feel Steve tensing up beside her. “And I don’t dance.”

He cleared his throat, crossing his arms. “Oh, you don’t, huh?” He leaned over to Steve, “What does she do?”

“Well, she…” Steve stuttered only for a second, thinking on his feet and smiling that boyish smile of his, “she’s swell at telling stories, pretty versatile, really, and just look at that smile!”

The producer turned his head back to her and she flashed him her best grin, trying her best to hide the disgust and sarcasm. “’Swell’ at telling stories?” He sighed. “I’m supposed to sell a great American hero who married a Brit?”

“I mean, we are allies,” Steve tried to rationalize.

Walter sighed, rubbing at his forehead. “What did Brandt think, you were going to stand on stage and smile? You might have a nice set of gams there, but that and a nickel will get you a cup of coffee.”

“I think you’ll find,” Peggy started loud, clear, and very American sounding, “that I can blend in quite well when necessary. I’m happy to affect any accent you’ll need for the stage, and do most anything except sing and dance.”

Walter looked up at Steve, obviously not used to being talked to in that manner by a woman, waiting for Steve to say something to her. Instead, he gave her a little squeeze and met the man’s confused gaze with a proud smirk. “That’s my girl!”

He wasn’t pleased, and he didn’t try to hide it. “Rehearsals start tomorrow, you’ll get your script then.”

“How long will we be here in rehearsals?” Steve asked, genuinely interested. Peggy wanted to know, too. They had woefully little information about the process.

“Three weeks of rehearsals then a soft opening run of four shows here. You open in DC for a week, then there’s a cross country schedule.” He tipped his head to their chauffeur who had stayed close. “Dave there will bring you to your hotel.”

Peggy almost smiled. Their pinch-faced man had a name. Dave.

“You need anything while you’re here, you ask Dave. Once you’re on the road, you’re on your own. Got it?”

“Yes, sir,” Steve replied, almost reflexively.

Walter looked him up and down once more. “Yeah, I think they’ll believe you belong in the army.” He turned away from them, mumbling as he left, “Damn government contract.”

Peggy had only the barest of moments to share a stunned look with Steve before they were interrupted by Dave, who stepped in front of them and motioned for them to follow him back through the audience.

~*~

Their hotel was not quite homey, but not quite bleak: two high towers full of rooms with a central connecting lobby filled with the dining room and common rooms. It was housing all the staff and performers for the show, most of whom, at least according to Dave, already knew each other from being on the performance circuit.

Steve unlocked their room, pocketing the key and swinging open the door wide. It wasn’t much: pale cream colors on the walls and faded floral bedsheets with matching curtains, a worn loveseat and a tiny table with two unsteady chairs. The bathroom was small, but having their own private one was a luxury.

“Not too bad,” Steve mused, walking around. He patted the tops of their trunks, sitting across from the bed. “How do you think they fared?”

“Well enough, I’m sure.” Peggy smiled just a little, eyes falling on the single bed. “Better than a tent on the front,” she mused.

He chuckled a little, shoving his hands in his pocket. “Very big upgrade,’ he agreed. “Should we unpack?”

Peggy held up her hand, her wife façade falling and the agent taking over, serious and stoic. She pulled a small black box from her purse and flicked a small button, moving it up and down as she slowly side stepped her way through the room. She slid it over the dresser and under the bed, in the small shower stall and behind the toilet. Finally, she sighed happily, clicking the box off and gesturing to the room. “Proceed.”

He didn’t move, but rather pointed to the box in her hand. “What was that?”

“One of Howard’s designs,” she held it up, admiring it with a small smile. She tapped the small, dark bulb on the end. “It lights up in the presence of an electronic listening device.”

Steve looked around the room, crestfallen that he had been so blindly trusting of their accommodations. “So… we’re good?”

“For bugs? Yes. Though the walls seem about as thick as a piece of parchment, so we should get used to keeping our voices down.”

His shoulders fell just a bit more as the whole thing became just a little more real to him. “You… you really think I’m in danger here?”

Her lips pressed tight as she looked up to him, she forced the tiniest of smiles. “I think that Colonel Phillips is one of the smartest men I’ve ever worked with, and despite his misgivings about you, he’s a keen judge of people. I also think that if the goal was to simply guard you or keep you safe, not only are there many other people besides myself who can do that job, it could be easily accomplished by putting you in a cell in Alamogordo. The Colonel has a great distrust of Senator Brandt, and made sure I was the one sent with you. Brandt didn’t make that pick, no matter how he tried to sell it- Phillips did. He told me himself.” She took a deep breath. “He had this show all ready for you to go in to without more than a day’s notice, and is a main suspect in how that Hydra Agent got past our defenses. Whatever’s going on, Phillips wasn’t just trusting anyone with this, and I’m not going to take any of it lightly.”

He was silent for a moment, taking in all he hadn’t known: that Phillips picked Peggy, not Brandt, and that Brandt was a suspect for being in cahoots with Hydra. “Thank you,” he finally whispered out, forcing himself to move on. “I guess… I guess we should get unpacked.”

Peggy shook her head, “Only the littlest bit. If we make it look like we’re living out of the trunks, it’s less suspicious that we’re not unpacking two of them.”

He nodded, undoing the straps on the top one and opened it, moving aside to let Peggy see the artillery had made it safe and sound. “We should put these on the bottom, I think, and ours on top so it’ll be harder for anyone to snoop.”

Peggy smiled up at him, proud. “Thinking like a spy already!” She reached in and pulled out a small handgun and a little filled canvas bag. “That should do for now, make sure those straps are tight.”

Peggy set her bounty on the counter and moved to the second trunk as Steve tightened the straps and moved it deeper in the room, setting it in the back corner, then grabbing another trunk and stacking it on top of it. Peggy pulled out a pair of retractable batons and the boxes of clothes Howard had sent with them, setting those on the counter as well. When she turned back, Steve was at the edge of the bed, holding a small, wrapped package, looking more than a little bashful.

“I, uh…” he laughed nervously, looking down at his toes. “This seemed like a good idea at the time, but uh, seems corny now.”

“What is it?” Peggy asked softly, taking a small step closer and fighting to keep her hands from fidgeting in the folds of her skirt.

Steve turned red, but met her eyes with a big smile that reminded her of the one she’d seen on him at the beginning of basic training. “A wedding present.”

She swallowed, hard. “I… I haven’t gotten you anything.” The retort seemed silly, even to her ears, but it somehow relaxed him.

“I didn’t expect you to. I just…” He shrugged and stepped forward, holding it out. “Here.”

She took it in her hands, soft and light, and let her fingers run over the brown paper wrapping and the little blue ribbon bow around it. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d gotten a properly wrapped present. She realized she was taking her time, and looked up at him, smiling. “Thank you,” she almost whispered, still surprised.

He shoved his hands back in his pockets, shoulders up to his ears. Slowly she pulled at the bow, and separated the paper to reveal a piece of black fabric that looked suspiciously like a garter belt, but with a little more fabric to it. She looked up at him, his cheeks slowly burning red with embarrassment. “A garter?”

“It’s- it’s a holster.” He reached out one hand, almost touching it, then pulling back. “Or it’s supposed to be, anyway.” He cleared his throat and fought for composure. “After you left Howard’s lab yesterday he mentioned that his butler’s wife was a seamstress and had done the majority of the sewing for the… stuff he gave you.” Peggy fought to not laugh at how cute he was, struggling around the topic. “Anyway, he seemed to think there was some left, so I asked if she could make you something nice. Anna seemed to think you’d find this more useful.”

That caught her up short, even as she pulled the holster up to look at it. “She knows?”

Steve shrugged. “I was as surprised as you are, but apparently all she knows is that the fabric Howard gave her is supposed to be a lighter version of armor, and she figured if you’d need armor you’d need this.” One side of his lips turned up. “Sounded like a good idea, to me.”

Peggy smiled. The holster was genius: made out of the same protective fabric that the stockings and slips were made of, it would lay extremely flat against her thigh and the flap at the top would keep the shape from being too conspicuous. She’d been worried how she was going to keep a firearm on her when she needed to be on stage, and this had just made it very, very easy. “This is wonderful, Steve. Thank you.”

“You like it?” He sounded like a hopeful little boy.

Peggy bent over and slid it up her leg, reaching out and settling the small handgun she’d pulled from the trunk in it. “I love it!” She let her skirt fall back over her legs, and noticed that he’d looked away while her bare thigh was on display. She spun, letting the skirt settle. “Can you tell it’s there?”

He looked, swallowing as he stared at her legs. “Uh, no. No, I can’t.”

She smiled brightly. “Then it’s perfect.”

~*~

Peggy felt better with the gun nestled against her thigh as they walked down to the lobby. With the entirety of the show’s cast and crew staying at the hotel, they were providing breakfast and dinner each day. Steve and Peggy stopped at the double doors of the small banquet room, watching the people, most of whom seemed to know one another, hustle around the large buffet and bounce from table to table, chatting.

“Not too much different from the mess, I guess.” Steve mumbled, tugging at his shirt sleeves. The civilian clothes he changed into fit him tight across the shoulders, almost too tight, and the pants were too big by at least two sizes. Most of the clothes he brought with him needed tailoring, badly, but they were all he could piece together on short notice.

He’d only had this physique for less than a week, after all, and none of his old clothes fit. Even the socks were too small.

Peggy slipped her arm through his, setting them forward. “Stay close, please.”

“Not a problem,” he mumbled, trying to force smiles as they moved through the room. It was easy enough, stepping in line and filling plates. No one questioned that they were supposed to be there as everyone was enthralled in their own dinner conversations. Peggy struggled to split her attention, eyeing each performer in the room, looking for someone whose gaze lingered just a little too long or whose eyebrows knit a little too deeply, while trying to decide what to eat. Apparently, rationing wasn’t quite as bad here as it was in London, and nowhere near what it had been on the front lines. Bowls and platters were full of chicken and mashed potatoes and rolls and butter and there were little cakes at the end of the line that made her do a double take.

She hadn’t seen a proper dessert in months.

“Bloody Nora,” she mumbled, trying to keep from letting her eyes pile more than she could eat on her plate.

“Yeah, it’s a good spread,” Steve whispered beside her, not being shy about piling his plate high. “Better than rations, huh?”

She carefully picked out just one of the little finger cakes at the end of the table and looked up at him, astounded. “Does everyone in America eat like this?”

“This?” He laughed a little, taking his own cake and then following her to a corner where there was a free table. “No. This is pretty extravagant.” He set his plate down, noticing she set them in the corner, where they’d both have a good line of vision to keep nearly the whole dining room in view. “I’ll go grab us some drinks. Water? Tea?”

“Water, please” she replied, still a little shell shocked. She watched him take the few steps to another table and fill two tall glasses and she unfurled her napkin and revealed the silverware that had been waiting for them on the table. The room still buzzed, but she could see that it was with a jovial familiarity. People were talking like old friends, making new friends, smiling and laughing.

The mood, and the food, was a far cry from the front she’d grown used to during her time with the SSR. She wasn’t sure if that made things better or worse. It certainly made her anxious.

Steve slid in across from her, setting her glass down. He smiled and pulled out his silverware, taking no time before tucking into his food. He stopped a few bites in when he realized she hadn’t started. He hurriedly wiped his mouth like a little kid and sat up tall. “Did… did you want to say grace or something?”

“No, sorry,” Peggy lifted her fork and tried to smile. “Just… people watching, I suppose.”

He started eating again, this time a little slower, with his eyes on her more often. “Did you… notice anything?”

Peggy swallowed and dabbed at her lips, moving her peas around her plate with the fork. “No, which bothers me.” She sighed quietly, leaning in towards him, “I’m used to knowing more about the situations I’m headed into. We know nothing about these people. I don’t even know who could be lying about who they are because I don’t have any dossiers on them at all.”

“Brandt didn’t give you any of that stuff?” Steve asked, his eyebrow knitting as he speared a piece of chicken.

She shook her head, chewing a forkful of potatoes thoughtfully. “I suppose I could get their bios and headshots somehow, but it still gives us little to go on.”

Steve tapped the fork against his lips, looking around. “What if… what if it’s not anyone here?” He turned back to her. “Wouldn’t it be easier to be an audience member?”

Peggy sipped on her water, nodding. “Could do, yeah.” She looked around, too, picking at her chicken that had seemed so appetizing just a few minutes ago. “Easy in and out. But if it were me? Someone in the show would be invaluable.”

“Like you,” Steve mumbled, looking at his plate and shoving a big forkful in his lips before he could say anymore.

Peggy’s heart skipped a beat, but before she could reply, a shadow slid over them. They both looked up to a bright, smiling face. “So, you must be the guy?”

“Excuse me?” Steve swallowed hard.

“Like, the guy, right? As in Mister Captain America?” She smiled and pulled the chair behind her up to the table. “I’m Angie,” she held out her hand, waiting for Steve to take it.

“Steve.” His handshake was tentative, but that didn’t seem to deter her.

She turned right away and held it out to Peggy, too. “And you must be the Missus!”

“Peggy,” she swallowed the mouthful of food she’d forgotten about, pulling her free hand to cover her mouth as she shook Angie’s hand. “Sorry, you surprised me.”

“Me?” Angie chuckled, eyes wide as she looked Peggy over. “You’re the surprise!” She let her voice drop, telling Peggy a secret she knew Steve could hear. “I mean, I was cast as Betty Carver, so I was a little disappointed when I heard I was getting dropped down to feature.”

Peggy watched Angie’s face fall when neither she nor Steve seemed to react to that. “I’m sorry, am I supposed to know who that is?” Peggy shrugged, trying to play it off as being dim. “We haven’t been given a script yet.”

Angie’s face went from disappointed to outraged. “You haven’t been…” Her mouth worked in disbelief as she looked between the two of them. “Who is your agent? We’ve all had the songs and script for weeks now!”

Peggy felt the sentence hit her like a punch in the gut: whatever Brandt had been planning, it had been going on for weeks, not days. Though they’d both known this couldn’t have been put together in the last few days, the realization that there was already a plan to center around some ultra-strong American hero bothered her deeply. She tried hard not to react to the plain panic in Steve’s eyes while Angie’s face was still on her. She made a snap decision, and decided the more honest they were, the better. “Agent? Why- the US Army, of course!”

Angie laughed, brushing Peggy’s comment away with her hand. “You’re funny! No- come on- tell me so we can help you guys get it all straightened out!” Angie’s smile faded as she watched Peggy’s straight face barely move. “Wait- you’re- you’re serious.”

“Yes.”

“But- this… this is a show. Why would the Army…” She looked between the two of them, truly confused.

Steve cleared his throat and stepped in. “There, uh, was an accident.” He looked down, and kept his eyes averted in a way that Peggy knew meant he was uncomfortable with what he was doing. “I couldn’t serve the way I wanted to, and some of the higher ups thought that this might be the best place for me.”

Peggy watched Angie’s face as she shifted uncomfortably. The young woman clearly hadn’t been prepared for what she thought was an injured veteran before her. Peggy reached out and took Steve’s hand, letting her thumb rub over the knuckle. “We’re very lucky to be here right now,” she nearly whispered, proud of how he’d managed to play his role.

“Oh my gosh, I am so sorry!” Angie, for her part, was now mortified, hands covering her mouth as she looked at the two of them. “You’re… wait- are you really married, too? I thought I just got re-cast!”

“What?” Peggy’s head swung around quickly.

“Betty Carver was supposed to be the love interest- the home front girlfriend of Captain America.” She rolled her eyes, talking out loud to herself. “I mean, I was thrown for a loop when I came over here and you were English! Couldn’t figure out why they’d recast the home front girl with an English gal, but…” She softened and turned, smiling genuinely. “Well, I guess it all makes a lot more sense, now.” She looked over at Steve. “You were really a soldier?”

He nodded, and Peggy pushed forward with the charade, skirting the line of reality as close as she could. “It’s how we met.”

Angie’s smile melted even further. “That’s so sweet. I wish I had a guy to write.” She shrugged, and switched gears quickly. “So, wait- you mean you’re really fresh out of the Army, no script or nothin’?”

“Nothin,” Steve confirmed.

“Well, you stick with me. I’ll show you the ropes, introduce you to everyone. Most of us have been taking gigs together for years now. After a while rehearsing and once we’re on the road we’ll be one big family.”

~*~

“I can sleep on the floor,” Steve said warmly, feeling gallant as he took a pillow from the bed even though he was drained from the way Angie had dragged them around the dining room, introducing them to nearly the entire cast.

Peggy pulled it from his hands and tossed it back on the bed. “Absolutely not.” Steve only knitted his brow at her. “The windows face the other side of the hotel. Even with the curtains drawn you can still see shapes. Plus, now that Angie’s introduced us around, I doubt she, or any of them really, will be too shy about stopping by. One overly nosy chorus girl sees you on the floor and starts talking and our cover is blown.”

Steve wasn’t convinced, and looked nervous now. “Still, I didn’t want to—"

“My modesty will survive if yours will.” She set her hands on her hips and looked at him, finding herself tired and frustrated after the afternoon they’d had. “One overly eager bell boy or maid comes in and finds you out of the bed, and we’re in the gossip mill. One wrong word to the wrong person, and this all goes south, you know that.”

He grabbed the pillow back from the bed, just as obstinate. “I don’t sleep that much anyway, it won’t bother me, Peg.”

Peggy shook her head, closing the tiny amount of space between them. “You and me, together against the world, right? But let’s get one thing straight, shall we? My official mission is to make sure you don’t get killed. If you die, I’ve failed,” she paused and smiled proudly, “and I never fail. Even more so than that,” she sighed, her eyes turning softer, “I’m quite fond of you, and I would very much appreciate you not dying.”

“Fond?” Steve nearly squeaked out.

Peggy smiled. Perhaps they’d been dancing about this too much, because his shock, after everything they’d said to each other this afternoon, was not the response she expected to her words. “Yes. Fond. So much so, in fact, that I might even let you take me on a date once this is all over.”

Steve flustered, surprised as he stuttered out, “D-date?” He cleared his throat and composed himself, nodding and looking anywhere but at her. “I mean, yeah. No. I’d love to take you out.” He took a breath and slowed himself down. “I’m… fond, too.”

Peggy smiled, turning her back, ignoring that he turned a deep shade of red. “Affection aside, we need to be comfortable with one another in public for strategic purposes: holding hands, casual touches, even kissing.” He’d very nearly gotten himself under control when she said that and she could see how hard he fought to keep his face from turning red again as she pulled the pillow from his hand, gentler this time. “When people see us, they need to believe we’re a couple, no matter if we love one another or can’t stand each other. Understood?”

He nodded swiftly.

She tossed the pillow down. “Now get in bed.”

He stared blankly at her for a second before sitting on the side of the bed, still fully dressed. “Did you… want to go to bed?” He asked cautiously.

She huffed, sitting heavily next to him. “No,” she admitted. “We need to talk this through. We can’t afford to get the details messed up. We came close a few times today already.”

Steve nodded. “I know. I tried to keep it as close to what really happened as I could, so we couldn’t mess it up, but—”

“No, that was good.” Peggy kicked off her heels and slid back on the bed, tucking her legs under her. “The closer we keep it to reality, the less details we have to remember. But the timeline is off. It’ll be what gets us caught.”

“Because according to the papers we were married before we even met.”

“Exactly.” She nibbled at her thumbnail, turning away to think. “And you were on the European Front. We need to figure out just exactly what your accident was, once these people get comfortable with us—”

“Angie’s already quite comfortable,” Steve mumbled.

Peggy hummed in agreement before continuing, “Once they get more comfortable, they’re not going to hold their questions for long. And it isn’t as if you’ve got anything overtly wrong that would take you off the front lines.”

Steve nodded. “They’re keeping every able-bodied soldier out there. It’s gotta be convincing.”

“Well, we should be able to fend off questions at least for a bit.” Peggy shifted, looking him over seriously.

Steve squirmed under her gaze. “What?”

“Just thinking,” she sighed, forcing her eyes to his. “If you were in your old body, we’d have no trouble passing you off as discharged.”

His laugh was somewhat self-deprecating. “If I were in my old body we wouldn’t be here.”

Peggy looked him over again, her eyes very pointedly popping up from the bed they were both sitting on once her gaze rested there. “Oh, I don’t know about that.”

His jaw fell, more out of surprise than anything, and he was even more surprised to see a bright red tint start to shade in around Peggy’s cheeks. She cleared her throat and looked away. “Goodness only knows how people get places, yes?” she asked quickly, pushing through the heavy seriousness that had fallen over them both. She stood, pacing with newfound energy as she tried to halt the images of just what they could do in a bed together. “What if you were in your old body? What could we say was the reason?”

Steve switched trains of thought with her easily, shrugging and curling over, so reminiscent of the frail boned boy he’d once been. “Gosh, take your pick. I’ll start with the A’s: anemia, asthma, angina, all kinds a’ scrawny… then there’s the scoliosis, high blood pressure, constant sinus infections. I had scarlet fever, then rheumatic fever…. Nothing ever felt the same after that.” He almost jumped when he looked up to see she’d managed to creep so close to him that she was leaning in only inches away from his face, staring, fascinated. “What?”

The amazed look on her face never faltered. “How did you ever manage Basic Training?”

He laughed nervously, the corner of his mouth quirking up as he shrugged. “You were there. You know I barely made it through most of the time.”

Her amazement shifted to pride. “Sheer force of will, I imagine, was the only thing between you and collapsing on that field.”

“Probably more often than you’d know.”

Peggy stood slowly and resumed her pacing. “Asthma would work.”

“They catch that right away. No hiding it. I never would have made it past the recruitment center. In fact, there were five times I didn’t.” She hummed, leaning back on her trunk, still looking him over. Steve tried no to hide from her intense gaze. “You know, that’s getting a little…”

Peggy turned her eyes down, shaking her head. “Sorry. Can’t help it.” She looked back up and smiled. “Seems Erskin’s serum worked a bit too well.”

~*~

Peggy stepped out of the bathroom, pin curls hidden under her kerchief, face scrubbed clean with just a light sheen of moisturizer on, her robe covering the only nightgown she had. She smiled when she saw Steve’s back, his face turned carefully away as he sat on his side of the bed. “You can look, you know.”

“I, uh,” as he cleared his throat she could see the pink creeping up his neck, “I didn’t want to presume.”

“I’m sorry to say that there’s nothing scandalous about me without my make-up or with my hair pinned for the night.” She carefully sat on her side of the bed, smiling as his shoulders tensed when he felt the mattress move. “Though I am in a nightgown, I wasn’t allowed to keep the army-issued pajamas.” He slowly turned, looking over, relaxing a little once he saw her. “What?” She chuckled, “Was that all that bad?”

“I just… I didn’t want to presume…”

“You said that already,” she smiled, unable to see anything else but the stammering 98-pound man across from her in the back of the car.

“I know, but it seemed…” he huffed, shrugging.

“You’re not scandalized?” she teased.

He smiled softly. “You look like my Ma.” Her eyes widened and he threw his hands up, rushing to explain. “No, I just, I thought you’d be- I don’t know, more- but not like- no, and then I turned and you were just- normal.” His hands started flying and his eyes darted back and forth as he panicked, words spilling from his lips that didn’t make any of his stuttering confessions better. “But no, not like that. Not normal. You’re pretty. I just assumed you’d be more since I imagined—not that I want more, you’re enough. But I saw you like that with the kerchief and that was just how my Ma used to do her hair and—” His eyes widened comically large, “No! I do not think of my Ma like that. Not that I did or would, but I thought of you like that—”

“You have?” she interrupted, completely amused and charmed at his stammering.

“I have!” He announced, proud, before he realized what he’d said, his face falling again and the stammering resuming. “No, it’s just that, I respect you. A lot. And you’re gorgeous. And we are married, but not for real so then I shouldn’t—”

“Steve!” Peggy smiled, put a hand on his. “Breathe!” He stopped his disjointed rant, looking at her and finally taking a deep breath in, eyes wild with pleading for understanding. “It’s alright. I understand what you’re trying to say.”

“Good,” he chuckled, turning more completely to her, “because I sure don’t.”

Peggy laughed lightly, taking her hands from his. “I believe I have an unfair advantage here as I’ve already seen you without your shirt, and ladies do tend to have quite a few tricks up their sleeves.”

He looked sheepish, swinging his pajama clad legs on the bed, eyes focused on his threadbare undershirt. “I’ve heard fellas say that they’ve seen their girls without make-up and their hair done and they look completely different. Made them not want to date them.”

Peggy shrugged her robe off, setting it on the chair next to the bed. Her nightgown wasn’t exactly revealing, she had dresses with lower necklines, but it was thinned from use and age and she didn’t have another. His eyes traveled her form, and she pretended not to notice as she pulled down the blanket and slipped into the bed. “And do I?”

“No.” He smiled, turning away to click off the lamp to hide his expression. “You’re…” he looked down, trying to pick his words carefully, “just as beautiful.”

Peggy bit her lip, unsure of how to respond as he slipped in the bed, the pillow between them separating their sides. “That’s a kind assessment,” she finally whispered into the darkness.

“It’s the truth,” he whispered back. “Good night, Peggy,” he added gently, looking over the pillow that separated them, the compromise they’d made to keep him off the floor and somehow save her virtue.

“Good night, Steve,” she whispered back, completely sure she’d have quite the difficult time sleeping now that she knew that unlike Fred, he didn’t seem to mind her as she looked not so done up.

#SteggyWeek23 #Steggy Fic #3P's Fic #@roboticonography #Once a year is a valid update schedule I swear

[cafecitowriter]

Death Is Only the Beginning - Chapter 6: Sam

Summary: Agent Peggy Carter disappeared near the end of World War II, during the climactic battle with the leader of Hydra: The Red Skull. While the Valkyrie never landed and millions of lives were saved, no one ever found Agent Carter - or even what had truly happened to her.

Nearly 80 years later, Steve Rogers discovers a compass with a picture of a beautiful woman inside the lid. For a reason he can’t quite place, he decides to keep it.

A/N: Another chapter update this soon can only mean that this update was also written for Steggy Week 2023! Although this time it's for Day 7: Free ChoiceThank you all for sticking with me!

Many thanks to @steggyfanevents for an awesome Steggy Week this year!

Read Chapter on AO3

Read from the Beginning

Chapter Preview:

Sam ushered Steve inside, both of them taking another look to make sure there was no one else outside. Once the door was closed, Steve spoke in a soft murmur.

“Nat and Bucky are on their way, so expect them next. It should just be the four of us so if anyone else comes knocking - even any other SHIELD agents, regard them as suspicious.”

“Four of you?”

“I - yeah. Four.”

Sam gave him a curious look, heading to the closed curtains and peeking out briefly. When he was seemingly satisfied, he turned back to Steve.

“Alright, what’s the threat, and what’s our plan?”

“The threat are moles within SHIELD. We don’t know how many but it goes deep, and now they know that we’re onto them which means we need to act quickly. The current plan is to come up with a plan when Nat and Buck get here.”

“Great, real solid stuff we have to work from here.”

Steve sighed as Sam took a pointed sip of his orange juice. At least Sam was only teasing him. Mostly.

“We were in the middle of discussing our next steps but then they found us.”

“Who’s they?”

“The organization that’s infiltrated SHIELD. They’re a specific scientific subdivision of Nazis that started in World War II called Hydra.”

“Of course it had to be goddamn Nazis,” Sam swore. “You need me to bring the wings?”

“Yes. Seeing as we’ve already lost the element of surprise, we need every other advantage we can get.”

“Done, anything else I should know before our backup arrives?”

“Yes.”

When he didn’t continue, Sam raised his eyebrow and placed his glass of orange juice down on the counter.

“You have my full attention. Now are you gonna tell me what I need to know or are you gonna make me guess?”

“I…” Steve sighed. “Look there’s no easy way to do this so you just have to promise not to freak out.”

#steggy #steggyweek23 #my fic #update

[thesokovianaccords]

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#5

Date night gone wrong. Steve/Peggy.

[for the drabble meme!]

“For the record, I’m sorry I threw your phone into the Potomac.”

Steve laughed, digging his thumb into a particularly tense part of the sole of Peggy’s foot. “Thank you, Pegs, but I think my phone is the least of our problems this evening. You’ll just have to stick close for a few days. In case you need me for anything.”

“Well, that won’t be too difficult,” Peggy sighed, looking around at the sparse apartment, “given that we’re stuck in this safe house for at least the next week.”

Steve hummed his agreement, switching to Peggy’s other foot and gently rearranging the ace bandage around her ankle. “Not that you’re up for much running at the moment.”

“Blasted nuisance.” Peggy shifted closer, eager for his warmth against her chilled skin. Her ripped dress fluttered around her legs as she moved. “If only my super healing worked as fast as yours, darling - we could have caught the bastard, and we’d be out dancing right now.”

“Or maybe at home.” 

Peggy looked up to see Steve waggling his eyebrows dramatically, completely ruining the suggestive tone of the remark. 

“You’re ridiculous.”

“But you love me anyway,” he said, grabbing her hand and pressing a kiss to her knuckles. “Even when date night is ruined by Avengers shenanigans.”

“I suppose there are worse people with whom to be trapped in a secret hideaway, even if it is your fault.”

“My fault?” Steve sat up straight, dislodging Peggy from her comfortable perch in his lap. His collar floated free of his shirt on one side, the fabric held together by only a few threads. “How on earth is this my fault?”

“They were tracking your phone. And of the two of us, I’d think you’re more likely to be targeted by an assassin, Steve. You’re hard to miss.” She patted his broad shoulders (both to prove her point and to enjoy the muscles shifting under her palm).

“And of the two of us, who’s spent the last several decades fighting all sorts of unsavory characters, hmm? They could just as easily have been after you.”

“Perks of having taken the long way round, Steve - no one actually believes it’s me when I’ve been running around with the same look since 1947. I must say, it’s fun being an urban legend. And not just because it means that Date Night Disasters are your fault.”

Steve planted his face in her hair to hide his grin - only Peggy could make him laugh about their long separation and his time in the ice, even as she used it to claim victory in whatever nonsense they were currently bickering about. “Some people just have all the luck. I guess I’ll just have to be content with being—what did Parker call me? A cultural icon?”

Peggy snorted. “Given that he was sending the team group chat memes of those PSAs you recorded, I’m sure it was not a compliment.”

“Who can understand the youths?”

“That’s right,” she said, curling her free hand through the short hairs at the nape of Steve’s neck. “We old fogies are the most fun, anyway.”

Steve pressed a kiss to Peggy’s scalp. “The best of times are always spent with you, Pegs. No one else I’d rather fall down the steps of the Lincoln Memorial with.”

“And don’t you forget it,” she retorted, sinking into Steve’s embrace again. “But next time, I’ll plan date night. I’d prefer dancing to running, if it’s all the same to you.”

“Ah, but fighting bad guys is romantic, if I’m with you.” He laughed at the sentiment, even as he maneuvered Peggy to see her face. 

She grinned back and cupped his jaw. “Everything is, darling - we’re just that good.”

54 notes • Posted 2021-01-17 04:10:25 GMT

#4

Steggy + 14 + 37

(14 - Stuck together for a long period of time / 37 - “You’re stuck with me, like it or not.” - from this drabble meme!)

“You can’t be serious.”

Peggy shrugs. “Driver picks the music. You snooze, you lose.”

“I didn’t snooze.” Steve slouched in the passenger seat, arms crossed over his broad chest in a manner that would have been distracting if Peggy was prone to such things. She wasn’t. Seriously.

“Hmm I’m pretty sure you did.”

“You told me that you would ‘literally throw me off the Washington Monument if I didn’t get my star-spangled ass out of the driver’s seat.’ How in the world is that snoozing? Also—star-spangled?”

Peggy turned her eyes from the road for a split second, one eyebrow raised. “The first time I met you, Rogers, you were wearing an American flag around your shoulders.”

Steve snorted. “Well, if college counts, then college counts, Miss Union Jack.”

Peggy scoffed. “Oh please. Monty dared me to wear that shirt and you know it.”

“What I know,” Steve said, “is that you were on your fifth scotch and soda alternating between belting out ‘God Save the Queen’ and ranting about how the fact that Margaret Thatcher was the only female prime minister was a crime against humanity.”

“I stand by that.”

Steve laughed, throwing his head back just as the morning sun filtered through the passenger window, illuminating his long lashes and the perfect line of his jaw. And Peggy cursed Howard all over again—for the thirtieth time since they had crossed the Beltway on their way to California for his and Maria’s impromptu wedding that they ‘both absolutely had to attend, it’s in three days, and no I won’t fly you out on my private jet even if you ask nicely, why not carpool with Steve, I hear he’s driving out’—for putting her in this situation with one of her dearest friends. 

Because Steve was her best friend. They were a team—had been since they were twenty-one, in school projects and grueling internships and those junior staff happy hours. He was her favorite person in the world, and she wouldn’t risk his warm smiles and terrible taste in music and unshakeable belief in her for anything in the world.

Even if she was dying—DYING—to know if his lips were as soft as they looked. And whether his beard would scratch her skin as pleasantly as she imagined. And whether he could take her breath away as easily as he made her laugh. 

Peggy shook her head, trying to dispel her more fanciful impulses. Driving made her dreamy—she blamed the magic of the open road…or something. She turned up the music, laughing as Steve groaned. “You’re so uncultured, Steve.”

“Uncultured? Now wait a minute—”

“Listen, if you can’t appreciate my commute playlist, I don’t have anything to say to you.”

Steve ruffled his hair with a laugh. “Whatever you need to cope with WMATA—I support you. But we’re on the open road! Not a single track in sight. Maybe…we don’t need the Spice Girls. I’m too relaxed to try and parse the meaning of ‘zigazig ah.’”

“You’re lucky I like you, Steve.” Peggy sighed dramatically and handed over her phone. “You can choose the playlist just this once. If you pick well, I might not throw you off the Washington Monument. Just the Jefferson Memorial. The tidal basin isn’t too bad, and you get to look at the cherry blossoms on your way down.”

“Your spirit of generosity is noted.” Steve rolled his eyes as he scrolled through her music, cheeks pink—likely from the sun. 

“Well, you’re stuck with me, like it or not.” Peggy adjusted her sunglasses, suddenly worried about where to put her hands (probably the steering wheel—but Steve’s gaze was like a weight against the side of her face, and for a moment, she forgot all the rules of the road. Except the one where she was supposed to drive on the right side. Well, mostly.)

She turned to him as the music changed over—a bit more jazzy than her personal preference, but still bold and inviting. Steve faced her, one hand still holding her phone, the other resting close to the gearshift, inches away from her own. “There’s nowhere I’d rather be, Peggy.”

Peggy couldn’t help the grin spreading across her face. “Well, there’s a lot of road left, Rogers. Hope you’re ready for an adventure.”

Steve’s lips turned up as she pressed the gas pedal, accelerating along the freeway. “I’m at your mercy, Carter. Show me what you’ve got.”

60 notes • Posted 2021-02-02 05:07:37 GMT

#3

LMAO INCREDIBLE I LOVE THE INTERNET

118 notes • Posted 2021-01-22 04:25:14 GMT

#2

#steggyweek21 - day one - favorite era

in which steve and peggy are the modern power couple they were always meant to be

146 notes • Posted 2021-07-27 01:54:52 GMT

#1

The true consequences of Brexit 👀

162 notes • Posted 2021-05-22 22:35:57 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

#my 2021 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #I love how much of this is Eurovision-related #my true love

[pentaghastx]

You Are My Gift

For @steggyfanevents Steggy week 2023 Day 5: Missing scenes and favorite moments In collaboration with @thesongofthegreens One-shot summary: 24th December, 1944

Captain America and The Howling Commandos were blessed with a moment's reprieve after their victory in the Battle of Metz (which came to an end on 13th December). They were sent back to Camp Lehigh to recoup and wait for further instructions, lucky for them, they were able to celebrate Christmas eve before being shipped off in the early morning. READ ON Ao3 HERE! Notes: Sorry this is late! I had a busy day today and couldn't get around to posting it sooner! Artemis and I both wished we could've had a cozy Steggy Christmas scene, so since it's missing, I took the liberty in writing a one-shot for it!

Dedicated to my writing partner Artemis ♥︎ Thank you for always loving my Peggy, you keep me going. - sincerely, your neighbor.

#peggy carter #steggy #steggyweek23 #steve rogers #artemiswrites #novaandartemiswrites #novawrites #our steggy week n&a #captain america

[pentaghastx]

Fantastic Beasts AU

For @steggyfanevents Steggy week 2023, Day 3: AUs & Crossovers Peggy written by me @pentaghastx Steve written by @thesongofthegreens

Summary: The year is 1923. Steve has just become an Auror and sets on a mission - he succeeds, but is now assigned to paperwork. Out of boredom, he goes to visit his friend, Tina Goldstein, in the basement. But she's not alone there. There's a stunning dame there with her - Peggy Carter. Between all the differences in wizarding laws in Britain and America, they somehow get along more than a Redcoat and Yankee should. It might also have something to do with the fact that they're in love with each other. (But that's off the record.) ——— ✴︎ ——— Below are links to the google docs, there you will read through the respective timelines we've written together for this AU! PEGGY'S TIMELINE STEVE'S TIMELINE Nova has compiled an aesthetic board dedicated to Peggy's Fantastic Beasts AU, you can check it out here! Notes: This is our day three submission! We went with a Fantastic Beasts AU as it's one I haven't seen going around and we both had so much fun getting into every asepct of the character. A lot of information we put together has been based off Pottermore, the WIki timeline for Fantastic Beasts, the movies themselves, and The Unofficial Ultimate Harry Potter Spellbook (used as referencing for wands). We will more than likely keep updating certain portions of the timeline, but for now, have a simplified guide for both Steve and Peggy. We probably spent a week working on our guides, as well as collaborating with each other, so we hope you enjoy!

#peggy carter #steggy #steve rogers #steggyweek23 #steggy week #novaandartemiswrites #novawrites #artemiswrites #our steggy week n&a #captain america #alternate universe #crossover

[pentaghastx]

Their House on Cedar Street

Peggy portrayal by myself ( @pentaghastx) Steve portrayal by Artemis ( @thesongofthegreens) For @steggyfanevents Steggy Week 2023 Day 1: Headcanons and Meta

Headcanon: Their house on Cedar Street and their neighbors

Summary: WELCOME TO THE NEIGHBORHOOD

In 1949, Steve Rogers goes back in time for Peggy Carter, building the "small life" that had always been talked about with his fellow Avengers. Their small life includes a house on Cedar Street, one with a cherry blossom, and a lot of work that needs to be done. After a long, year and a half of work, it's completed, allowing them to move in later that same year after they're married. But along with the house comes neighbors, and you get to meet'em all! Welcome to Cedar Street and the beginning of the American Dream for the Rogers family. ——— ✴︎ ———

Below is our google doc we put together for this extremely detailed headcanon of ours. You will read about the lore of the street, the neighbors, their house, and all the furniture within the house! You will also find a Pinterest board dedicated to this headcanon as well! GOOGLE DOC PINTEREST BOARD This is our first time participating in such an event so we thank you for reading our work! ♡ P.s. This doc and Pinterest board will be constantly updated, so please comeback any time and poke around! We hope you enjoyed your stay at the Rogers residence!

#steggyweek23 #novawrites #artemiswrites #steggywrites #novaandartemiswrites #steggy #peggy carter #steve rogers #captain america #our steggy week n&a

[pentaghastx]

The Luckiest of Them All

For @steggyfanevents Steggy week 2023 Day 4: Family and Friends Peggy portrayed by me @pentaghastx Steve portrayed by @thesongofthegreens Summary: August 4th, 1955

It's Sarah Rogers 1st birthday! The whole neighborhood has been invited to celebrate! Friends of the family gather at the Rogers residence for hot dogs, coke, and good laughs. The backyard is filled to the brim with people who love and adore the Rogers family with all their might.

Come by and celebrate, we hope you enjoy your time! Read on Ao3 here!

Notes: This work is a roleplay turned fanfic!

My writing partner Artemis and I attempted to make this whole fic a completed roleplay which would then be edited and revised into fic form. However, we hardly had time to finish this roleplay, so I took the liberty in finishing it in time for Day 4!

We thought it would be a cute idea to write about their daughter's first birthday and add in all their friends who they consider their family.

The characters involved are canon but also headcanoned characters we have made up ourselves. If you wish to learn more about the characters that live on Cedar Street, head over to the link here where you can read all about them! We hope you enjoy, thanks for reading!

#peggy carter #steggy #steggyweek23 #steve rogers #artemiswrites #novawrites #novaandartemiswrites #captain america #our steggy week n&a

[pentaghastx]

What If… Peggy Got Her Wish

For @steggyfanevents Steggy week Day 6: Multiverse/What If…? Written by @thesongofthegreens

FIC SUMMARY:

After the battle against Ultron and becoming a Guardian of the Multiverse, Peggy has other plans about how her life should go. While the Watcher hates how their negotiation goes, he doubts Captain Carter will sacrifice any of her terms. So, he makes the only deal he can.

READ ON Ao3 HERE!

NOTE FROM @thesongofthegreens: Hello to all! This is a late posting of Day 6 for Steggy week, but I was so happy to write it!

I always thought that Peggy deserved to have her happy ending, but with a few tweaks, as Captain Carter is not exactly a copy and paste story. I always thought the idea of Steve getting the serum to take her place would be interesting, as well as her coming back to find him different than she left him.

I hope you enjoyed the concept as much as I did!

#peggy carter #steggy #steggyweek23 #steve rogers #artemiswrites #novaandartemiswrites #our steggy week n&a #captain america #steggy week #captain carter #what if...?

[cafecitowriter]

Death Is Only the Beginning - Chapter 5: Natasha

Summary: Agent Peggy Carter disappeared near the end of World War II, during the climactic battle with the leader of Hydra: The Red Skull. While the Valkyrie never landed and millions of lives were saved, no one ever found Agent Carter - or even what had truly happened to her.

Nearly 80 years later, Steve Rogers discovers a compass with a picture of a beautiful woman inside the lid. For a reason he can't quite place, he decides to keep it.

A/N: Thank you to everyone who has been reading this and stuck around even after an unexpectedly long hiatus. This chapter is for Steggy Week 2023 Day 2: WIPs and Updates

Thank you thank you to @steggyfanevents for this prompt, without which I may have never stopped fiddling with this chapter long enough to post it.

Read Chapter on AO3

Read from the Beginning

Preview:

“What the hell?” Bucky asked, voice low and tight. “What is this?”

Steve made his way to the balcony door, swearing as he bumped into both the couch and the lamp. When he arrived he saw that Peggy had beat him there, clearly unbothered by the obstacles his furniture posed.

“Looks like a blackout,” Steve answered as he looked out the window. For as far as he could see, everything in sight was powerless.

For the first time in recent memory, he was able to see the stars in the sky.

“This can’t be a coincidence,” Peggy murmured, her eyes focused on something he couldn’t quite make out in the darkness.

“You think Hydra caused this?”

“It’s bloody well likely with our luck.”

“Are we sure this isn’t a regular summer blackout?” Bucky piped up. “We were due for one with this heat-”

The sound of the window shattering grabbed Steve’s attention directly beside him. As time slowed down, he watched the bullet go straight through Peggy, right where her chest was.

#steggy #steggyweek23 #andi writes #my fic #oh look a wild update appeared! #loosely inspired by the mummy and just like heaven

[3pirouette]

The Captain and the Missus (4/?)

Title: The Captain and The Missus 

By: TriplePirouette/3Pirouette

Spoilers: AU of CA:TFA

Disclaimer: They're not mine.

Distribution: AO3 Anyone else please ask first :) 

Story Summary: Instead of wanting to recreate the serum, Schmidt wants every trace of it wiped from existence so he can be the sole one to benefit from it. This means that Steve’s life is in danger, and Peggy’s new job is to keep him alive as he travels in hiding with the USO tour. 

Story A/N: AU of CA: TFA, based on @roboticonography’s idea of having Peggy go on tour with Steve as “Mrs. America”

(Robot’s post HERE: https://3pirouette.tumblr.com/post/654017864817360896/steggy-24-49)

SO... Yes. yes, it's true. I've somehow managed to only update this once a year during the past three years for Steggy Week. At least I'm consistent.

For 2023, this satisfies Steggy Week Day 2: WIPs and Updates.

Chapter 4: Bubbling Pots

Summary: Peggy and Steve are off on their adventure, but she’ll need to start relying on him just as much as she wants him to rely on her if this is going to work.

A/N: My goal today was to reacquaint myself with the story and get a good outline going. After I did that, I realized that I do, in fact, have a fairly solid chapter. I only ended up doing a few edits. I spent most of my time working on where the story is going, and figuring out what comes next. So, you ACTUALLY GET A CHAPTER. And without having to wait a year!

~*~

Peggy sat in the audience, next to Steve, while the chorus girls sang on stage. She tried to keep a pleasant look on her face as the one on the end, Marie, warbled off key, but found it quite difficult. She and the rest of the cast were filling the seats as they slowly moved through the script. 

“This reads like a bad radio play,” Steve whispered, leaning over. 

Peggy hummed, nodding in agreement. The “scenes” they were to play between song and dance numbers were trite and silly. “Think of whose left, though. Wives and kids, mostly. They’re not looking for Shakespeare or Descartes, just some hope and a little time to forget.”

“True,” he looked around, leaning closer to her and dropping his voice. “Just seems so disingenuous.”

“Most of it is, anything they think will squeeze a penny from our pockets,” Angie leaned over the seatback between them, voice barely more than a whisper. “Since all the proceeds here are going to the war effort, you can almost forgive it, but that’s all showbiz is: trying to figure out what will get butts in seats.”

Peggy almost smiled, but winced as Marie missed another high note. She waved the script she’d been given just an hour ago when they arrived at the rehearsal. “You really think this drivel will get people coming?”

“That drivel?” Angie draped her arm over the seat and poked Peggy’s script. “No, not at all.” She shrugged and rested her chin on her folded arms. “And Marie’s gotta stop telling them she’s a soprano when she’s clearly an alto, or the little bit of draw we’ve got in the music’s gonna head south, too.” 

Steve dropped his head in his hands as the piano player plunked out a line of harmony for the singers. “This is going to be so embarrassing.” 

“Aw, don’t worry, Cap.” Angie’s sarcasm softened, “Usually after some rehearsal they figure out what fits, what doesn’t, and the show gets at least a little better.”

Peggy reached over, letting her hand sit on his shoulder. He wasn’t a boastful man to begin with, and she’d seen the little hints of panic in his eyes when they talked about the show. Getting on the stage was not going to be easy for him. “You’ve done many of these, Angie?”

“Many might be an exaggeration, but I’ve auditioned and understudied loads of them. Usually got cut by the time they had the show ready to take on the road, but that ain’t happening this time.” Her smile and confidence were infectious, and it bolstered Peggy. 

“I’d hope not,” Peggy supplied as they all clapped mindlessly as the trio of girls exited the stage and the director called up a pair of tap dancers. 

Angie leaned back. “Certainly won’t. I was ensemble then. I’m a feature now.” She sighed, picking up her script and flipping through. “Though, who knows. Last show I toured with they replaced a bunch of girls once they got to Chicago.”

“Why?” Steve tried to split his attention between the conversation and the dancing happening on stage. 

“Who knows? I mean, Doris was a rough dancer to begin with- and she wasn’t getting any better, so that’s probably why she got the axe. There were a couple of girls- well,” Angie leaned forward, a smile on her face as she stage whispered, “when you’re on one of these shows, there are rules about how late you can stay out and who with- be glad you don’t have to worry about those, English, because I think a few of the girls got caught with some GIs one night and that’s why they were ousted. We never knew for sure, but they were out all crying and sobbing the next day.” 

While Steve was enthralled and Angie was completely unbothered, the tapping was starting to fray Peggy’s nerves. She found it difficult to focus on the information Angie was giving her- information she sorely needed as she had almost none. “Who enforces such a thing?”

“They call her a chaperone, but she’s basically a baby sitter who rats people out when they want to have fun. I don’t think they’ve hired one for us yet, though. At least, if they have, we don’t know about it.”

~*~

“You know, we weren’t involved in any of the morning rehearsals, either,” Steve mused, underlining and making little notes next to his lines in his script as he sat on the bed. Peggy and Steve were dismissed for the day just before lunch while the director worked on the choreography they weren’t involved in. “They made us go just to get scripts?”

“Probably,” Peggy mused, trailing her own pencil against the back of her script, the list of the names of the cast lined up in her neat handwriting as her nails tapped on the wood. She’d told Angie she was horrible with names, and had asked the girl to go through each cast and crew member as she made a list on the back of her script. Now, she perused the names as she sat at the small table, mentally ticking off the little she knew about each of them. Usually, she didn’t have a problem connecting a face with a name, but she usually didn’t meet so many in such a short amount of time, and she usually had one or two to focus on. 

Steve hummed low in his throat, turning another page. “This is really horrible. ‘I’ll fight for the right of justice along the Earth!’ I mean, who talks like that?”

Peggy tapped her manicured nails along the edge of the table in a quick tattoo. “You do, apparently,” she replied with little thought. 

“’Where Hitler goes, I’ll follow.’ Really?” He huffed, shaking his head. He turned his head, taking her in when she didn’t reply, listening to the nervous tapping of her nails, watching as her knee bounced in time, her breathing just a little heavier than normal. “Peg?”

“Hum?”

He tried to smile, but couldn’t hide that he was a little concerned. “You’re gonna put a hole in that table if you keep tapping on it like that.”

She leaned back, the chair creaking under her. “We’re on our heels,” she muttered, lifting her hand from the table, the nervous tapping continuing as she placed it on her thigh without the tell-tale noise. “It’s a bad place to be.”

Steve set the script next to him. “What do you mean?”

She shook her head, rubbing her hand over her face before looking back down at her list. “I know nothing about any of these people, and from what I learned from Angie today it seems any one of them would be just as likely as another to be an operative.” She sighed, tossing her pencil on the table. “I should have traipsed around Europe pretending to be a lounge singer,” she mumbled, “less background to worry about than a secretary or a seamstress.” 

“But you said you can’t sing,” Steve supplied, trying to lighten her mood. 

“Don’t.” She didn’t turn her head, but looked at him before turning her attention back to the names. “I don’t sing. Doesn’t mean I can’t sing; I simply choose not to.” She leaned back and sprung from the chair at his interested hum, unwilling to give up on her frustration and pacing the room. “I don’t like being on my heels.” 

He slipped forward to let his feet dangle off the bed, closer to where she walked the length of the room. “I see that.”

“Usually I have something,” she scrubbed her hands down her thighs, trying to walk off the anger, “a place to start. Even if it ends up being wrong, I have a place to start.” 

He shrugged, pushing his script to the side and motioning towards hers. “Isn’t that list a place to start?”

She looked at him, pausing for a moment and bouncing her head on her shoulders in what wasn’t exactly a nod but wasn’t a shake, either. “Yes and no,” she muttered, moving back into her pacing. “Usually, I have a target or a suspect. Someone I can focus on.” She stopped leaning back on the stacked cases. “There’s no person of interest, no place to start at, just a list as long as my arm of suspects and nothing to go on, not until one of them tries something, which might be too late.” 

Steve smiled, shaking his head. “You’re taking this way too seriously.”

She leaned back, affronted. “I am not.”

He looked at her back as she turned, opening the top case and pulling out the file she’d hidden in the lining the night before, opening it to reveal the scant information they did have. He sighed, “Ok, maybe that’s not what I meant, but so far I haven’t seen anything aside from that horrid writing that I would call dangerous.”

“That’s the point,” she huffed, turning back to him, top secret papers strewn across the top of her clothes is the case. “You don’t see it coming until it goes pear-shaped. And it will, Steve. We know it will.” 

“Brandt might be planning something. But right now, we’ve just got a bunch of show kids looking to put on a show. Not a single suspicious face in the crowd. Even if someone tries something, I’ll be fine.” He shrugged, trying to lighten her mood. “I can lift tanks, remember?”

Peggy swallowed, hard, and tried to keep her composure. “Oh, I remember.” She looked at him coolly, eyes falling to the floor. “I remember your blood flowing through my fingers, and Erskine’s on the ground next to me as it poured out of him.” She set her chin, looking at him fiercely. “Very few evil men telegraph themselves by wearing a swastika on their sleeve,” she bit out. “That operative didn’t, and someone in our ranks isn’t, and that means your life is in danger here, silly little show or not.” 

Something about her ire raised his own hackles, and his lips turned down, sour. “Well, then, couldn’t I be doing more somewhere else? Somewhere where they do wear their allegiance on their sleeve and I’d know who the bad guy was?” He stood, pacing himself. “Europe, for example?” He sighed, hands on his hips. “I’m not sure what you want, here, Peggy. Neither of us likes this.” 

The fight had bloomed so quickly she wasn’t sure where it had come from, or why his words hurt her so deeply. “No, I suppose neither of us do,” she replied, knowing it was harsh. She did, actually, like being with him very much. It was the intelligence side she couldn’t stand. “The quicker we figure this out, the quicker we’ll be done with all this.”

The words hurt the moment she said them, and she could see the pain in Steve’s eyes. “Sure,” he replied tersely, looking as small as the day she’d met him. “We get through this, we get an annulment, and you get to go back to the SSR and I’ll head out to Alamogordo.” He turned, heading for the door. 

She crossed the room, her hand on his wrist stopping him from leaving. “It’s not what I meant,” she whispered. 

“I think you might have,” his reply was soft, wounded. “I’m no prize, Peg, and we both know this is babysitting duty.”

She stepped in front of him, taking his hand. “This is not babysitting duty,” she whispered emphatically. “What has happened to you may be the most important discovery in the history of science. There may be a war on, and you may have been meant to be a soldier, but think of all we’ll lose if you’re lying dead on a battle field or in the footlights on a stage? Same result, either place.”

“So, I’m a thing then,” he resigned, looking away. “you’re stuck babysitting Brandt’s Science Fair winning experiment, is that it?”

“Stop being thick,” she ordered, turning his head back to her. “That laundry list of ailments you read me that kept you out of the Army is cured. Cured.” She softened, letting her fingers caress his cheek as they fell from his face. “With Erskine gone, you and Howard are the only ones who can recreate his work.” She stopped his response by speaking again. “How many able-bodied men would we have at our disposal if we could cure asthma? Polio?” She saw his self-deprecation turn a little at her words and she pressed on. “What would your mother have given to see you better as a little boy, hum?” 

“I don’t think Howard needs me to—”

“He might,” she interrupted. She shook her head and looked up at him, smiling. “Erskine gave the Army a super soldier because that’s what they wanted. But his research? His research had always been about helping people, curing people, making them better.” She stepped back, putting space between them. “You might be able to lift tanks and fight Nazis, but in truth Erskine was more interested in your health, and what that could mean for the future of medicine. He just didn’t have enough time to show you that.” She squeezed his fingers tight. “There may come a day when they call you to the front, but his life’s work lives within you, Steve. Don’t discount your safety so easily.” 

His ire was abated, and he nodded. “I’m sorry, I just…” he shrugged, looking down at their hands, at a loss for words. 

“We’re on our heels, both of us,” she pulled him back to the edge of the bed, sitting next to him and pulling her hand from his. 

He nodded, rubbing his fingers against his palm, his hand empty without hers. “But we’re a team.”

She smiled, a little calmer. “Yes, yes we are.”

He looked around, setting his jaw and his mind after a quiet moment. “So, how do I help you?” 

His question caught her off guard. “Help?”

He nodded, somber. “I can’t… do… anything right now but read these ridiculous lines over and over and get ready for rehearsal tomorrow. But it seems like you need help, so…” he shrugged. “How do I help you?”

She scrubbed her hand over her face. She’d always worked on her own, never had a partner to play out scenarios and thoughts with, she wasn’t exactly sure how to voice her process. “Well, I… I’m trying to get a handle on who these people are. It’s… infuriating how little I know about them.” She pointed towards her script. “The more I know about people, the easier it is to catch them in lies, or pick up when they mess up details. Right now, I can hardly put a face to a name.” 

“When you have dossiers,” he finally put together, “you have something to compare their stories to.”

“Exactly.” She nodded, feeling a little lighter with him taking on even the tiniest of the burden. “But I don’t have anything to compare it to, and quite frankly I’ve never had to try to weed out a suspect from so many unknowns before. Usually, I have no trouble with it, but keeping their details straight seems like a herculean task at the moment.”

Steve looked around the room and bounced up, quickly darting to his own trunk and coming back with his sketch pad, setting it on his lap to an open page and smiling as he split the large paper into four sections. “Who should we start with?” 

Peggy wasn’t sure exactly his plan, but she picked the most obvious and easy to manage. “Angie.”

“Angie,” he repeated, scratching out her name across the top of the first box. “What do we know about her?” he asked without looking up, instead concentrating as he sketched out a rough likeness of her face in the corner. He nodded as Peggy listed off the few concrete facts she’d mentioned, writing them across from her picture, just like it was his own classified dossier he’d seen often enough on Phillip’s desk. Below her picture he added his own words: friendly, talkative, and nosy. 

Peggy laughed, a smile on her face. “I believe ‘gossip’ would do well there, too.”

He nodded, adding it for good measure. “Anything else?”

“Not just now. Who else do you remember?”

“All of them,” he said shyly, one shoulder shrugging up. “I had a real good memory before the serum, but Howard called it ‘beyond photographic’ now.”

Peggy was astounded as Steve spent the rest of the afternoon sketching the cast from memory in quick likenesses, helping her recall details about their stories and listing them on the pages. As they completed each page of four people, she tacked it up inside the trunk’s lid with pins from her sewing kit, and by the end of the afternoon they sat staring at the entire cast and crew, laid out like any war room list of suspects she’d ever seen. 

“Thank you,” she smiled, running her hand over his shoulder. “We don’t know any more, but this…” she took a deep breath, “this makes me feel like it is a little less overwhelming.” 

He chuckled, looking over the nearly fifty faces. “I think it’s still pretty overwhelming, now that we’re looking at it.”

“But I don’t have to remember it all off the cuff while trying to memorize trite lines,” she added, standing and running her hand over it. “We can add what we’ve learned each night, compare and contrast what they’ve said. With a pool of suspects this big, this can only help.”

~*~

Steve was distant at dinner, despite the way he’d helped her and the smiles they’d shared after their strained afternoon. He remained thoughtful and stoic as she made her toilette and they swapped times in the small bathroom. He was still and quiet as she read in bed, sitting in the little wooden chair, staring out the window. 

It wasn’t until they were both in bed, lights out, that he spoke. “Bucky used to call me a self-righteous asshole after he knocked out whatever bully I’d managed to rile up,” he started in a soft voice, staring at the ceiling. “But my Ma just used to say I was like a little bubbling pot, I’d boil over when you least expected me to.” He laughed, a little burst of something between a happy remembrance and the darkness of loss. “I remember when I was a kid, sometimes I’d just get so angry…” 

She looked at him as he sighed, his long eyelashes fluttering as shadows over his cheeks, silhouetted in the moonlight, waiting for him to say more through long, quiet breaths. 

“I hid it, so much, until it would just burst out, you know? I’d be so mad I was stuck inside all winter that I’d finally lash out and have a tantrum, then end up gasping for breath, my Ma standing over me and shaking her head.” He smiled in the darkness. “She’d chide me a little, but mostly shake her head and remind me that the Asthma was why I was stuck inside instead of out playing in the snow in the first place.” He scrubbed his hands over his face. “I got better at hiding it the older I got. Let my anger out better places, but it still didn’t stop me from picking fights with bullies or doing some idiotic thing to make a point about a school rule or some other stupid, hare-brained stunt I’d come up with when I wasn’t thinking straight.”

He turned his head, looking at her in the darkness, eyes boring into hers. “I’m sorry I picked a fight.” She nearly stopped him, but nodded instead, curious to see where he was going. “It’s been a lot—”

She laughed, a light, soft sound. “Steve, it’s been less than a week since you were picked for the Project. You’re allowed to be a little overwhelmed.”  

“Doesn’t mean I can be rude or thoughtless or a jackass,” he shrugged, the blanket over them shifting. “You’re in this, just like me.” He smiled in the darkness. “We’re both on our heels.”

“I’ve never been in a situation like this before,” she whispered, reaching her hand out on the pillow between them. “I’ve always had an out, a safety, a handler who was just a phone call and an extraction point away. When whatever is going to happen here happens, it will be just us. You and me.” He reached out, taking her hand and twining them together as she continued. “We won’t have Howard or Phillips or the Army, just each other.”

“I think we can do that,” he replied gently. 

Peggy turned to the ceiling, not letting go of his hand but suddenly understanding the freedom the white plaster and cover of darkness gave her to be just a little more honest. “Every night when I close my eyes, I see it again: the bullet piercing you, you falling, Erskine falling just a second and a shot later. The blood pumping from your chest.” She closed her eyes and swallowed hard. “I don’t ever want to see that again, Steve. Not ever.” 

“Not if I can help it,” he replied softly, holding her hand just a little tighter. 

“You won’t, not if you don’t take this just a little bit more seriously.” She turned back to him, knowing her eyes were pleading. “I know it’s not what you want, and I can’t make you want it. But we’re here now and there is a very real threat, that I can promise you.” 

He nodded, closing his eyes for a second. “I can do that. It’s just hard,” he barked out a laugh, tipping his head to the table where their scripts lay, “with that sitting there, staring me in the face like some farce.”

“It’s hardly Shakespeare,” she replied with a smile, “but needs must, and while it might not win any awards, there will be little children who might somehow find some solace in the thought that a great, big super hero will be fighting Hitler right along side their fathers on the front line.” 

He shook his head. “They should pick up a Superman comic, then.”

“They should look up to someone like you,” she rebutted, happy he couldn’t see her blush in the dark. “You may boil over a bit every once in a while, but Erskine picked the right man for the job. I know that, and he knew that.”

He kept her hand tight in his but rolled on his back, regarding the ceiling again. “I don’t know if I can do this, Peg.”

She didn’t move, didn’t even need to think about what she wanted to say to him. “After all the things you’ve done in basic training and in that lab, getting on stage is what scares you?”

He laughed at that, nodding. “I’ll try to take it all a little more seriously, I promise.”

“And I’ll try to do better asking for help, instead of bubbling over my own pot, alright?”

He hummed in acknowledgement and they both held the other’s hand just a little tight. 

Peggy wasn’t sure exactly when she fell asleep after that, or what time it was when she opened her eyes in the middle of the night, still turned towards the no-man’s-land of the pillow between them, their hands still tightly clasped together as he slept across from her, his mouth a  slack circle as his eyes danced behind his eyelids in dreams, but she knew when she woke up, still in the same position but devoid of his hand and his side of the bed empty, that something had changed last night. Whatever it was she was feeling, whatever he was reciprocating, was a danger they’d have to navigate just as carefully as they navigated the rest of the cast and crew. 

#steggy fic #3p's fic #3P at the Stork Club #Saturdaystorkclub

[cafecitowriter]

mi pedazo de sol

Summary: Sarah Carter-Rogers tries to keep her chin up as she returns back home to celebrate her parents' 25th wedding anniversary in the wake of her own personal turmoil.

A/N: Written for Steggy Week 2022 Day 5: Domestic Bliss, featuring family in all its forms, with a focus on one of Steve and Peggy's kids in particular.

While this work is part of the Stars' Verse, this can be read as a standalone story. All you need to know it's an alternate branch universe post-Endgame where Steve and Peggy had three children: Sarah, Isabel, and Nathaniel, who all inherited some of Steve's enhancements to varying extents.

Title taken from Tacones Rojos by Sebastián Yatra. It means "my piece of sun".

Shout out to @steggyfanevents for hosting this event!

Read on AO3

Preview:

Steve walked into the bedroom after having brushed his teeth and washed his face, smiling at the sight on the bed. Peggy was dressed in one of his pyjama shirts (the worn out blue checkered one) and held a book in her hand that she was ignoring in favour of pursing her lips at an undetermined point just above their shared dresser.

“So… not a fan of Carrie?” Steve joked lightly as he approached the bed. He knew Peggy well enough to know that startling her - no matter how unwittingly - could be dangerous.

“Mm?” Peggy hummed, looking up at him before her eyes flicked to the book in her hand. “Oh, actually I’m afraid I haven’t started reading it yet.”

“That bad, huh?”

Peggy lightly smacked his chest as he settled into bed beside her, but shuffled over regardless, discarding the book carelessly on her nightstand in favour of curling up against him.

“I was just thinking about this weekend, our anniversary dinner.”

“Should I be worried that after 25 years you’re thinking this hard about our anniversary?”

“Only if you keep trying to be funny,” she quipped.

#steggy #steggyweek22 #steggyweek2022 #steve rogers #peggy carter #stegglings

[3pirouette]

Fic: There's a Chance We'll Get By

Title: There’s a Chance We’ll Get By By: TriplePirouette/3Pirouette Spoilers: AU for CA: TFA Disclaimer: They're not mine. Word Count: 4643 Distribution: AO3 Anyone else please ask first :)

Story Summary: Steve and Peggy try to find a way to live while they’re on the run from the American government.

A/N: For Steggy Week 2k22 Day 1: “Inspired by.” This story is inspired by the Bon Jovi song “Born To Be My Baby.” While the vibe of the song isn’t exactly 40’s Steggy, the lyrics just hit me right in the feels and this is what you get. The idea of her being born to be his and him being made to be hers just GETS me. I wanted to address it more, but the story is just the vibe of the song. Lyrics added for reference as this is the section that sparked the story.

This is finished, there is no larger plot or story in my head. Just them on the run. Enjoy.

~*~

Light a candle, blow the world away Table for two on a TV tray It ain't fancy, baby that's OK Our time, our way

So hold me close better hang on tight Buckle up, baby, it's a bumpy ride We're two kids hitching down the road of life Our world, our fight

If we stand side by side (all night) There's a chance we'll get by (and it's alright) And I'll know that you'll be live In my heart till the day that I die

'Cause you were born to be my baby And baby, I was made to be your man We got something to believe in Even if we don't know where we stand Only God would know the reasons But I bet he must have had a plan

'Cause you were born to be my baby And baby, I was made to be your man

-Born to be my Baby, Bon Jovi

~*~ 1947

Peggy turned at the sound of the closing door, dishcloth still in her hand. “Oh, I know that look,” she sighed, moving towards Steve as he leaned back against the door, hands rubbing over his face. “What happened?”

“I think…” He sighed, letting his hands rest on her shoulders as his eyes said what he didn’t need to, “I’m sorry, Peggy.”

She lifted her hand to his cheek, letting her thumb rub over the beard he’d grown. “Nothing to be sorry for, my darling.” She stepped back, slinging the towel on her shoulder. “How much time do we have?”

He rubbed his hand over his chin, shaking his head. “I don’t know, I just know…” Steve didn’t finish, but instead started moving quickly, gathering the little they had in a pile on the couch until her hand stopped him. “Go bags or do we have time to pack?” she asked, eyes serious but tone soft.

His hand twisted in hers until he laced their fingers. He took a deep breath and sat next to his little pile. “The jack… it slipped. It was on the other side of the car. If I hadn’t…” Steve’s voice grew thick. “I had to grab it or it would have crushed him the way he was under there.”

“Mr. Marcone?”

He nodded. “If I’d been on the other side of the car, I just could have grabbed it and slipped the jack back under. But…” He squeezed her hand tight. “The way he looked at me. He was grateful, he was proud, and then… then he saw right through the beard and the fake Boston accent and…”

Peggy kneeled and hugged him tight. “And what, Steve?”

There were tears in his eyes he refused to cry. “He said he’d give us a head start before he turned us in.”

She held him tight for a moment, then pulled back. “Best get packing then. Dinner was just sandwiches, anyway. We can eat in the car.”

~*~ 1945

Steve’s head popped off the pillow the second he heard his tent rustle. He couldn’t see who it was in the dark, but as soon as he heard the voice, he knew something was desperately wrong.

“Get up.” Howard Stark wasn’t one to hang around the front lines during the day, never mind the middle of the night.

Steve sat up, reaching in the dark and pulling on his pants. “What’s wrong?” He moved to turn on the little lamp, but Howard’s hand batted his away.

His voice was harried and rushed in the dark, barely loud enough for even Steve to hear. “You’ve got to go. Get dressed and grab only the necessities.”

“Mission?” Steve whispered back, tying his boots and grabbing his knapsack.

“I’m afraid not,” Howard replied, stepping closer. “You’re not coming back. Take anything you can’t get along the way. Anything irreplaceable.”

~*~ 1947

Steve tossed the last bag in the back of the car and shut the trunk tight as the sun started to set behind them. With a jog he nearly jumped into the driver’s side as Peggy settled the bags at her feet. His hands fisted in his lap, the keys dangling from his fingers. Peggy turned her head and watched him. It was the first moment he’d been still since he came home and told her they’d need to leave. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, turning the keys over in his hands. “You deserve a lot more than this life.”

She put her hand over his, stilling the fidgeting. Her nails that had once been always manicured red so nicely now were bare and short, as inconspicuous as she could make them. He rubbed his thumb over a nail, still morning the little things in moments like this. “I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else, my love.”

His head whipped to hers, eyes sad and welling with tears. “Peg…”

She smiled, and he could almost see exactly when she pushed her own fear and anxiety away to help him feel better. “Maybe I’ll be a blonde this time, yeah?” She laughed, even though it was flat a mirthless as she reached up to caress his cheek. “I was getting a tad tired of the beard, anyway.”

He let his forehead rest on hers. “Where to this time?”

“South,” Peggy whispered, pressing her lips to his. “I wasn’t looking forward to Christmas in Vermont. Too much snow.”

~*~ 1945

“What do you mean?” Steve asked, following Howard through the brush behind their camp.

“I mean what I said,” he replied, flailing his arms against the tree limbs. “I mean that Phillips and I uncovered a Hydra mole, but it’s too late.”

Steve stopped the man and turned him. In the moonlight Steve could finally see the fine sheen of sweat on him, the way his chest heaved and the way his eyes were wild like he’d never seen before. “Howard,” he pleaded, still feeling unbalanced from the way he’d been woken, “I need you to stop and explain it to me. You’re just giving me bits and pieces.”

Howard took a slow, deep breath and set his hands on his hips, looking away then finally looking back at Steve. “If our intel is right, at this very minute there’s an attempt being made on Senator Brandt’s life, and no matter if he lives or dies, they’re going to be blaming you.”

Steve reared back. “Me?” He shook his head, unbelieving, “But if we know this, why aren’t we trying to stop this?”

“You’re a patsy,” Howard nearly yelled, surprising himself. He stepped forward, dropping his voice. “You’re a patsy. You’re gonna take the fall. Hydra’s infiltrated somewhere up in the Senate, the House, hell, even generals! The list of things they’re going to try to pin on you, the things they’re gonna say- well, they’re calling you a traitor, Steve. They’re saying—”

“But it’s not true. You know—”

Howard pulled him along, getting them moving again. “It’s not about what is true or what isn’t true, Steve.” He huffed. “We got wise a few weeks ago, when an order came across Phillip’s desk to get you to Alamogordo. They want you off the playing field and in a lab somewhere, and it looks like they’ll do anything to make that happen.”

“Why?”

“Your guess is as good as mine, but that doesn’t really matter at the moment, does it?” He huffed, leading Steve farther away from camp, “Especially not if MPs come knocking at your tent in the morning.”

~*~ 1947

The motel bed was scratchy, but they’d driven nearly 36 hours and neither could stomach trying to nap in the passenger seat again.

“I can feel you thinking,” Peggy muttered against his chest, wrapped around him under the thin blanket.

“We’ll have to find you peroxide,” he mumbled, ticking the list off against her shoulder, “I’ll need a razor and a shave, and then we both gotta find new jobs.” He sighed. “How far south do you want to go?”

“I’ve heard good things about Florida.”

“I was thinking maybe we should go all the way to Mexico.”

She turned her head and rested it on his chest to look up at him. “Mexico?”

“It’s too risky here.” He sighed heavily, sitting up and running his hand through his hair. “There’s less chance of people feeling a patriotic duty to turn us in in another country, I think.”

“Maybe we were wrong about sentiments having cooled.” She leaned back, tossing the blanket off her. “Might as well go all the way to Argentina, then,” she countered, rolling on her side.

He chuckled mirthlessly, reaching down to run his hand through her hair. “We start going where the Nazis are hiding, it won’t help our case.”

She nuzzled into his touch. “At least we managed to establish communication again, even if Howard said there’s nothing new to report.”

“Better than nothing, I suppose.” He slipped back down into the bed, pulling her close. His voice was thick when he spoke again. “I was really starting to like that little town. I thought…” his voice trailed off, and he let what was unsaid remain unsaid. He hadn’t voiced thoughts like that in over a year, and didn’t know if he ever would want to again. “Sometimes… sometimes I wonder how bad it would be if we just turned ourselves in, you know? This can’t…” He huffed, snuggling into her embrace. “This can’t be worth it.”

“It’s a bumpy ride, darling.” Peggy agreed, pressing a kiss to his chest, “But I promise you, it’s better than whatever Hydra has planned. Better than whatever those men want to do with you.”

He shuffled a little, looking down at her eyes that held such surety, such belief, and melted just a little. “Why do you stay with me, Peg? Why do you put yourself through this?”

She pushed forcefully, rolling him onto his back and straddling him. “Must we go over this every time we have to move, darling?”

Peggy leaned her elbows on his chest, pinning him down, even though he could have lifter her off him easily. His maudlin seemed to disappear just for a moment. “We may not know where we stand in all this all of the time, but I will never want to be anywhere that isn’t with you, Steve Rogers.” She smiled. “There’s no getting around it, it’s me and you for the long haul, soldier.”

~*~ 1945

It wasn’t much of a clearing, and the small group huddled behind the Jeep to stay hidden in the small outcrop just off the dirt road out of camp. They all turned sharply at the sound of them approaching, but Howard pushed forward despite the way Peggy drew her gun.

She set it back in her holster and waited for Steve to step into the small circle they’d made around the map in the back of the Jeep. “I’d ask if you were followed but—”

Phillips interrupted, sour. “You want to nit-pick at his spy skills or do you want to get this moving, Carter.”

She looked away, only slightly chastised. “Yes, sir.”

Steve set his hands on his hips, looking at Phillips, Bucky, and Peggy. “What’s the play.”

“You and Carter are leaving,” Phillips started, harsh.

“Now.” Bucky’s tone left no room for argument.

“Where to?” He asked, looking into the trunk of the civilian jeep to see very little in the way of supplies.

“Spain,” Stark supplied, handing Peggy an envelope. “I’ll have my man meet you at that hotel in three days with more supplies and better cover identities.”

“From there, it’s up to you,” Bucky added, shaking his head. “You can’t tell us where, and you can’t be in touch.”

“How will we know…” Steve started, but Phillips shook his head.

“You’re about to be the number one enemy of the Allied Nations, son,” he sighed, folding up the map. “It won’t be safe for a while.”

“And when it is, we’ll find you.” Bucky stepped around Phillips.

Steve frowned. “You knew about this?”

“Only since this morning,” he whispered. “Dugan, too. We’re gonna fill the other Commandos in as soon as you’re gone.”

“This turned south far faster than any of us could have imagined,” Peggy added. “But I’ll tell you all I can once we’re moving.”

Steve stood, looking at them all, slack jawed in the French forest. He tried to speak, but nothing came out.

“I’ve got your back,” Bucky promised, taking his hand tight. “Till the end of the line, ok?”

“Yeah,” Steve mumbled. “Till the end of the line,” he parroted back, still stunned.

Phillips stepped in, turning Steve towards the passenger side. “Carter’s going with you. You two will be able to better slip around as a married couple than trying to march outta here with Barnes or Dugan.”

“She’s a better shot, too,” Bucky added, smiling to try to lighten the mood. “And a lot nicer to look at, and much better at whatever else you two do on those long walks you take behind the mess after dinner.”

Bucky’s levity didn’t change how he felt about the girl he was falling in love with stepping into the front line of danger with him. “I- I can’t ask you—” Steve stuttered out, looking over at where she was getting into the driver’s seat, noticing for the first time she’d shed her army green for civilian clothes.

“You’re not asking, I’m insisting.” She took a deep breath and turned the key, the truck roaring to life.

“Her idea,” Barnes whispered to Phillips’ dismay.

Phillips turned the man away from his friend, stripped the bag off his shoulder and pushed him into the car before tossing his bag in the back and pushing up the tailgate. He stepped around to Peggy’s side, stern. “You two need to move. Take turns, drive as far as you can tonight. Stay away from patrols, use whatever tricks Carter has up her sleeve, but you do not get caught, do you hear me?”

“Yes, sir,” they both replied.

With only the barest glance to make sure Barnes wasn’t hanging on the window any longer, Peggy shifted the car in gear and moved them onto the road and into the darkness, farther and farther away from their friends.

Steve could feel his heart pounding in his chest, he didn’t know what to say as they moved through the trees both too fast and too slow for his liking.

“Are you alright?” Peggy asked after a few quiet minutes.

The words tumbled from his lips in almost a laugh. “No. No, I don’t think I am.”

“Good,” She chuckled, reaching out and squeezing his forearm quickly before putting her hand back on the wheel to maneuver through the overgrown dirt road, “then we’re on the same page.”

Another long moment went by before Steve sat taller, his heart still pounding in his chest. “Peg, we should go back, swap you for Bucky—”

“Aside from the fact that this is the only sound tactical solution,” she replied crisply, “namely sending you with a spy who actually knows how to hide, get lost and stay lost,” she took a deep breath and looked over at him quickly, letting the mask of surety fall just for a moment, “If you think I’m letting the man I love run for his life in the middle of the night without me, then you don’t know me at all.”

He nearly laughed, but couldn’t quite tell if he also wanted to cry. “I don’t want you in danger, Peg.”

“And I’d like for you not to be on the most wanted list, but it seems we’re not getting our wishes today.”

The atmosphere became tense and she slowed the car, putting it in park on the dark, dirt road.

“Steve, look at me.” She couldn’t see much when he turned, but knowing his attention was on her meant enough. “Nothing about this is good. Not who gets to go with you, not who gets left behind to figure it out, not crossing our fingers and hoping we know who we can trust. Nothing.” She reached out, taking his hand in hers. “I trust you with my life. Do you trust me with yours?”

“Yes.” He didn’t hesitate.

“Then trust me that we’ve talked it through. Phillips, Howard, Barnes and I went through every scenario we could think of, and what it boils down to is you need to move and you need to hide until this is all over.”

“I won’t lie. I’m mad as hell you never told me.” He could see her frown, and knew from experience that her face meant it hadn’t been her decision. “You promised you’d tell me everything?”

She squeezed his hand. “As soon as we’re safer than we are now.”

He squeezed back and then let her go. “Then drive.”

~*~ 1949

Steve pulled out the little folding table and set it in the living room. The apartment wasn’t spacious, but it wasn’t the worst place they’d ever lived. He slid two of the boxes around it, setting up makeshift stools.

The apartment was unfurnished, and they had strikingly little to their names, but they’d made do with far less. He pulled out a linen napkin and laid it over the table, then set up the single pillar candle and put the small box next to it.

He nearly jumped when he heard her key in the lock. He stood tall next to his little surprise as she slipped in the door. “How was it?”

Peggy tossed her bag on the floor by the door, leaning back against it. “Well, I’ve learned my Spanish needs work,” she sighed, stepping in and smiling when she saw the little set up. “But no luck, I’m afraid. You?”

He took her in his arms, kissing her gently. “There’s a garage down the street, the owner will be there tomorrow.”

“You did like working on cars,” she leaned up, getting another gentle kiss before leaning back in his embrace. “They won’t expect we’ve traveled to another country just to get the same waitress and mechanic jobs, I’m sure of that.”

Steve scrunched up his nose, picking at her platinum hair. “I’m don’t think I’m used to this yet.”

Peggy giggled, tickling at his moustache. “Well, just for the record I think this is a horrid choice, but needs must.”

“You don’t like it?” He leaned down, nuzzling her cheek with his whiskers and bare cheek, laughing as she pulled away from the sensation. “No?”

“Goodness, no!” She slipped out of his embrace and laughed at him. “Let’s put moustache at the bottom of the list, shall we?”

He grabbed her hand and pulled her back to him, gently kissing her cheek. “Noted.” With a side step, he pulled her over to the box. “Have a seat, dinner will be right out, madame.”

She shook her head at him, grabbing a match and lighting the candle as he disappeared around the wall into the small kitchen. The tiny apartment had little in the way of lighting, and the sun was setting, casting them in greys. “Now there’s an idea. My French is much better than my Spanish- why didn’t we just go to Canada?”

“You hate the cold?” he countered, carrying out two plates. He set them down with a flourish, then smiled shyly. “It’s not much. Or that fancy. We uh, we only packed two plates but…”

She reached up and slid her hand down his arm, squeezing his fingers before dropping it. “It’s perfect.”

“Happy Birthday, Peggy,” he whispered, bending to kiss the crown of her head.

Her eyes welled up. “Thank you, darling.”

He looked taken aback as he sat. “You thought I forgot?”

She swallowed down the tears and looked over the plate of rice, beans and chicken and the other of a simple white cake. “Well, I’ve just… I’ve had so many different names and birthdays over the last two years I hardly… I hardly thought about it today, you know?”

He took her hand in his across the table. “I pray every night that we don’t have to celebrate another birthday like this,” he leaned in, his voice quiet and insistent, “and I hate that this is where we are, but…” a smile broke through, “I wouldn’t want to be with anyone else.”

Her smile was just a little sadder. “I’d like to say that by next year…”

“Doesn’t matter.” His words were definitive. Unyielding. He softened his tone and kissed her hand. “Doesn’t matter if we are or aren’t. As long as I’m with you.” He pulled the small box over. “I got it the day before we left. I was planning on this for today, anyway.”

Peggy pulled her hand back and opened the small box. “Steve…” she breathed out, pulling the small, delicate silver band from the tissue.

He took it from her and took her left hand in his. “I wanted to make it official. Between us, that is.” He stumbled over his words a little, a bright tinge coming to his cheeks. “We’ve been pretending for so long I don’t know that it much matters, and nothing would change the fact that I love you, but…” He held the ring over her finger. “Marry me, Peg?”

“Yes, Steve,” she sighed, smiling bright as he slipped the ring on her finger. “In as many lives and as many identities as we ever live, yes.”

~*~ 1945

Peggy slipped into town while he stayed with the Jeep on the outskirts, hoping to keep his face hidden. She returned with a can of black shoe polish, a bag of pastries, and the morning paper that declared him a traitor an hour later. “This will cover up the blonde for now,” she said as she’d helped him comb it through his hair, “But we’ll need better for you.”

Three months in Spain helped her hone her Spanish, which was decimated when they were found out and they’d spent two very frustrating and confusing weeks in Portugal before they jumped on a boat and headed to Africa.

Blending in wasn’t exactly easy in Algeria, and there were far too many American and English expatriates in Egypt for them to feel comfortable.

For nearly a year they managed a small existence on the Greek coast. They both stumbled with the language at first, but Steve picked up quicky and Peggy became passable in a few months. He managed to find a job in a shipyard, explaining away his absence in the army by faking poor eyesight. His strength was needed, and they paid him well enough for it. Being outside all day turned his skin a nice olive tone, and a scruffy beard and shaggy hair, along with some coke bottle glasses, kept him relatively unrecognizable.

They talked about getting married for real instead of just saying they were for a cover.

They talked about how they could build a life when they were still being looked for even though his likeness was popping up in news reports less and less frequently.

They’d nearly been lulled into a sense of security, until Barnes woke them out of a dead sleep in the middle of the night banging on the door, shoved them into an unmarked van and then on to a cargo ship that landed them in Greenland.

Peggy never got comfortable after that.

~*~ 1947

Peggy moaned in displeasure as Steve rolled into her. It was a hot, sticky night and she was already nearly naked. With him pressed up against her there would be no way she could sleep.

His hand, instead of roaming someplace she expected, or holding her tight, slipped up and pressed her lips together. “I heard something on the roof,” he whispered, barely loud enough to get all the syllables out. “Two, maybe three.”

She nodded against him. They’d figured out long ago that their friends, their allies, were not stealthy when they came to extract them. They’d knock loudly, call their names out, announce themselves anyway they could. Their enemies were the only ones that ever tried to be stealthy.

She took a slow, deep breath and placed her hand on his. Guns were under the night tables, loaded and ready to pull and fire in under a second. Go Bags were at the foot of the bed, as were her clothes.

She didn’t really want to fight in her panties and slip, but she would. It would take her three steps to get to the chair that held her dress with her shoes beneath it. Two steps back to get her Go Bag. Steve always had the keys to the car on his nightstand, so they could be out the door or the window in under a minute.

From there, ten feet to the car, and they were home free.

If the car started.

If there were only two or three of them and there weren’t reinforcements downstairs.

If this were her mission, she’d bring at least ten men, especially after they’d made it out against four agents in Alberta ten months ago. Yes, she suspected three on the roof, two at each of the two windows, two on the front door and two near the car. It was what she would do.

“Window, car, three,” he whispered, and she nodded again.

She squeezed his hand once, twice, and on the third time, they both shot up from the bed as silently as they could, Steve standing tall and grabbing the keys and his gun, pressing his back against the window to cover it as Peggy dove to the chair where her dress and shoes were. Once she was dressed, she moved to shoulder the Go Bags, gun at the ready as he put on his pants and threw his arms through a shirt, not bothering to button it as he slipped on his shoes.

They both took in a deep breath, ready to make their next move, as their bedroom door burst open. Peggy nearly jumped through the window, tucking and rolling away as Steve laid down cover fire. She landed hard but moved right to the little outcropping of trash cans and scanned as Steve burst through the window, a flurry of yelling in Spanish and English following him. She fell into step beside him and ran for their car, stopping to turn and fire at the man on the roof before aiming at the men that had advanced to the trash cans as Steve cursed at the car, the engine sputtering.

It finally roared into life and she ducked into it as he sped off, the bullets shattering the glass of a taillight and their back window as they roared off into the night.

Peggy’s breath shuddered as she settled into the passenger seat. “We’ll have to switch cars,” she said, her voice not as strong as she’d hoped.

“Next town over,” Steve relied, reaching out his hand for hers and twining their fingers tight. “Let’s just get some space between us.”

Peggy slid over across the bench seat and laid her head against his shoulder, sighing. “I was just starting to like Mexico.”

He let his hand slip from hers to rub her thigh, keeping her as close as he could while he drove down the dark back roads. “We’ll find somewhere else to like, I promise.”

“Not going to ask me why I’m still here?”

He chuckled mirthlessly. “No. Not yet, anyway. Still full of adrenaline.”

“Ahh,” she sighed, settling in against him, “me too. Heart’s still pounding.”

“You should try to get some sleep,” he pressed a quick kiss to her temple. “It’s at least a half hour to get to anyplace we can borrow a car from.”

She rolled her eyes at the well-worn argument. “Please just say steal. We’re stealing a car, Steve.”

“Borrow has a better ring to it.”

“You’re in charge of getting it back, then.” She let her eyes flutter closed, even though she didn’t think she could sleep. “Drive tonight, plan tomorrow?”

She felt him nod. “Once we’re at least another country away. Guatemala, at least.”

“Think we can get there tonight?” She yawned against him.

“Just sleep, Peg,” He whispered, rubbing her leg soothingly as he kept his eyes on the road. “Just sleep.”

“I should go through the bags,” she muttered without opening her eyes. “Make sure we have everything we need.”

“I don’t need anything else but you by my side.” He smiled down at her, knowing she was falling into a heavy sleep as the wind through the windows cooled her skin and the sound of the tires on the road lulled her away. “I’ve got you. I’ve got everything I need.”

#SteggyWeek22 #SteggyFanEvents #steggy fic #3p's fic #steggy #Day 1: Inspired by

[cafecitowriter]

I posted 2,022 times in 2022

39 posts created (2%)

1,983 posts reblogged (98%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@wedonttradelives

@theawkwardterrier

@laviejaguardia

@doctorhelena

@captainjimothycarter

I tagged 1,015 of my posts in 2022

Only 50% of my posts had no tags

#steggy - 320 posts

#peggy carter - 79 posts

#adorable - 56 posts

#steve rogers - 54 posts

#i love this - 49 posts

#star wars - 39 posts

#lmao - 36 posts

#i love them - 34 posts

#eternals - 31 posts

#eternals spoilers - 30 posts

Longest Tag: 137 characters

#i literally had to block someone who drew aos fanart because they made may daisy and elena look as white as jemma in everything they made

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

mi pedazo de sol

Summary: Sarah Carter-Rogers tries to keep her chin up as she returns back home to celebrate her parents' 25th wedding anniversary in the wake of her own personal turmoil.

A/N: Written for Steggy Week 2022 Day 5: Domestic Bliss, featuring family in all its forms, with a focus on one of Steve and Peggy's kids in particular.

While this work is part of the Stars' Verse, this can be read as a standalone story. All you need to know it's an alternate branch universe post-Endgame where Steve and Peggy had three children: Sarah, Isabel, and Nathaniel, who all inherited some of Steve's enhancements to varying extents.

Title taken from Tacones Rojos by Sebastián Yatra. It means "my piece of sun".

Shout out to @steggyfanevents for hosting this event!

Read on AO3

Preview:

Steve walked into the bedroom after having brushed his teeth and washed his face, smiling at the sight on the bed. Peggy was dressed in one of his pyjama shirts (the worn out blue checkered one) and held a book in her hand that she was ignoring in favour of pursing her lips at an undetermined point just above their shared dresser.

“So… not a fan of Carrie?” Steve joked lightly as he approached the bed. He knew Peggy well enough to know that startling her - no matter how unwittingly - could be dangerous.

“Mm?” Peggy hummed, looking up at him before her eyes flicked to the book in her hand. “Oh, actually I’m afraid I haven’t started reading it yet.”

“That bad, huh?”

Peggy lightly smacked his chest as he settled into bed beside her, but shuffled over regardless, discarding the book carelessly on her nightstand in favour of curling up against him.

“I was just thinking about this weekend, our anniversary dinner.”

“Should I be worried that after 25 years you’re thinking this hard about our anniversary?”

“Only if you keep trying to be funny,” she quipped.

26 notes - Posted July 28, 2022

#4

Just One Thing (Chapter 8/8)

Chapter Title: All I want for Christmas

Chapter Summary: Peggy gets her wish (again). This time, she knows exactly what she needs to do.

Fic Summary: 16 year old Peggy Carter hates change. Change has only ever caused her trouble and made life harder. Which is why when one day, her best friend Steve confesses something that has the potential to change their dynamic forever, she makes a wish that she hopes will help her solve everything.

Because adults have everything figured out... Right?

A holiday version of 13 Going on 30 (more like 16 going on 36) Steggy Secret Santa ( @steggyfanevents​ ) present for @thesokovianaccords​. Inspired by the movie and this iconic AU gifset by @beautifulwhensarcastic

A/N: This ridiculously long final chapter/epilogue is brought to you by me not having any self-restraint whatsoever in terms of picking which scenes to keep and which to leave out, so consider this a director's cut-esque chapter. This was written with a lot of love for a super awesome person. Many thanks to Darcy for catching my mistakes and consistency errors.

Finally, Livia, happy belated holidays, and I really hope you've enjoyed this story as much as I've enjoyed writing it.

Read Chapter 8 here

Read from the beginning on AO3

Chapter Preview:

December 2001

“And well… you’re my true north, Peggy.”

Peggy’s hands froze. Her hands, that were slimmer and smaller and that had glitter nail polish on her fingernails, not bright red. She slowly looked up from the compass. It was nighttime, but she was no longer on aunt Lizzy’s couch. She was outside, close to the football field of Midwood high school.

And Steve was here, right in front of her. But he wasn’t 6 feet tall with broad shoulders and he certainly didn’t have a beard. He was 16 again, wearing his blue suit and nervous smile. Looking just like he did when he…

“Steve what… what are you saying?” she whispered.

He took a deep breath, and brought his hands out of his pockets just for him to stuff them back in again.

“I love you, Peggy.” Steve confessed, his voice shaking slightly.

“What?” she breathed out.

“I love you,” he repeated. “I’m pretty sure I’ve loved you since you punched Hodge on the first day of the first grade for picking on me.”

His words made Peggy want to cry tears of joy. She was back. It really worked and she was 16 again. This was her second chance. Slowly, her mouth grew into a large grin.

“Steve!” she squealed, tackling him into a huge hug.

Unfortunately for both of them, Peggy momentarily forgot that Steve no longer had the strength of giant muscles to support them both, especially since she caught him by surprise. The force of her hug had knocked Steve backwards, taking her along with him. They landed with a collective grunt, Peggy trying to readjust herself so she was hovering over Steve instead of crushing him beneath her.

“Ow,” he groaned, furrowing his eyebrows in pain.

“Sorry,” she said, looking down at him with a large smile.

“So is this your way of telling me I ruined everything or…?”

33 notes - Posted February 18, 2022

#3

in silent screams and wildest dreams

Summary: Steve Rogers has been plagued by nightmares of death his entire life; his father’s and his mother’s, most of the time his own. Visions of blood and war and illness are the most prominent things in his life when he closes his eyes. At night he regularly dances with the Grim Reaper when she appears, flirting with countless outcomes of how his own demise will occur night after night.

Until he joins the army and meets Agent Carter.

Written for Steggy Week Day 2: Favourite Era, inspired by this ask from @thesokovianaccords and my love of war-time era Steggy.

Shout out to @steggyfanevents for hosting this event!

Read on AO3

Preview:

Steve has been plagued by nightmares his entire life.

The night terrors began during his toddler years, and never left him as he got older. At first, the only part of his dreams that followed him into consciousness was a strong burning sensation in his eyes and on his skin, as though his entire body was on fire. Steve would wake up night after night shaking and gasping for air, never knowing the reason why. As he grew up, he was finally able to remember the images that haunted him ceaselessly.

It was visions of his father, who had died of mustard gas before Steve was even born. In these dreams Steve never heard a sound but he could smell the gas, see his father’s face as he inhaled the poisonous fumes.

Steve never told his ma the details of what he saw. She had enough to worry about without being concerned that Steve was having visions of his father’s death every night. He got better at hiding the fact that he was still having these nightmares - just enough that his ma thought that he finally grew out of them.

He kept a book under his pillow filled with sketches that he drew every morning when he woke up, trying to make sense of it all. Maybe if he understood them, they would stop.

But they never did.

36 notes - Posted July 25, 2022

#2

STEGGY FANFIC READING CHALLENGE - COMPLETE

1.1 - Fluff

Comforts of Home by @teaandatale

Quiet moments caring for each other at home are one of the luxuries that Steve and Peggy treasure as they move into a life together.

This is one of the softest fics I’ve read and I adore it

~

1.2 - Reread an Old Favourite

S’Wonderful, S’Marvelous by @teaandatale​

Peggy’s been dreading her company’s weeklong business retreat at an upstate ski lodge until she makes an unexpected acquaintance.

I don’t know what to say other than despite the fact that I don’t tend to read winter/Christmas fics outside of November-February, I reread this one at least three times a year and it never fails to bring me comfort even if it is the dead of summer

~

1.3 - Captain America Adventure Hour

That Swell Liberty Gal Carrying A Torch For You by Redrikki

Angie was sure that skinny Steve had been a real swell guy, but there was no way he'd been good enough for her Peggy.

A series of conversations makes her change her mind.

I am a huge fan of any fics where Angie realizes who Peggy’s lost soldier is, and this one is no exception

~

1.4 - Trauma

I knew nothing but shadows by @beautifulwhensarcastic

Children of Thanos aren't meant to care for the life they had before Father took them in. Neither Nomad nor Margaret remember much of Terra for it to matter anyway, or to feel any kind of connection between them. Truthfully, they'd sooner cut the other's throat than bond.

Nothing says trauma like being a child of Thanos. Justine layers the trauma - and subsequent healing - in a beautiful way. Featuring enemies to lovers

~

1.5 - Cohabitation

Someone to watch over me by rachellovesligers

Steve tries to distract himself while Peggy's on a mission, but he's there to take care of her when she returns.

Technically Steve and Peggy aren’t living together, but they’re at each other’s apartments enough that they may as well be

~

2.1 - Double Steve or Peggy

like the way you burn by @formerlyir / irony_rocks

Soulmate mark AU. Peggy thinks about the mark, the compass. She thinks about the providence behind its appearance alongside Project Rebirth. It's only the beginning to a series of events destined to change her life and the fate of the future.

See the full post

47 notes - Posted March 26, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

The Right Partner - Steggy Netflix Series

See the full post

221 notes - Posted July 24, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #not bad! #tbh i am very proud of that steggy netflix series #one of these days i might get a writer's room going and make it happen lol #also yes robot if that ever happens you are 100% in

[3pirouette]

Fic: The Prices We're Willing to Pay (Prologue & 1/?)

Title: The Prices We’re Willing to Pay By: TriplePirouette/3Pirouette Spoilers: AU of the Infinity Saga and Phase 4. Disclaimer: They're not mine. Distribution: AO3 Anyone else please ask first :)

Story Summary: Inspired by Multiverse of Madness. What if it had all gone differently, and Peggy had nothing left to lose?

A/N: Yes, this may be another WIP. (I KNOW, I know…) For Steggy Week Day 6: What If…? I wrote this right after I saw Multiverse of Madness. I can’t get this idea out of my head. When I do write it, it will be short scenes from each movie/important continuity spots with a lot of space for either the reader to fill in their own thoughts or for me to go back and add scenes in afterwards. “Dates” are signified by what movie in the order we’re looking at an AU of…

~*~

Prologue: What Have you Lost? (Multiverse of Madness)

She turned, livid. “How dare you, Strange!”

“The Peggy Carter I knew…”

She shook her head, eyes wild. “That woman is gone. That life is gone. I have given ev—” Her chest heaved with emotion and she took a deep, shuddering breath. “I have given everything for this universe. My family, my friends. Steve and I fought—”

“And don’t you think he’d—”

“I don’t care!” She bellowed, the blue flare of power rising from her fingers as her feet left the ground. “I don’t care,” she whispered, lowering herself. “You don’t know what it was like, losing our whole lives to try to destroy Hydra only to find out it had never really been gone. To find out the horrors we fought so hard against had taken hold here in the future. To lose everything and still fight and then…” Tears fell from her lashes, her chin wavered but she continued. “You don’t know what it was like, feeling his lips on mine one second then feeling their absence as he ran to the edge of that cliff.” She stepped towards him, her eyes boring into his. When I woke up with that stone in my hand and my husband gone, I had nothing left to lose.”

He stood tall against her. “You enslaved a town!”

“I gave myself what I deserved!” Her anger radiated off of her in waves, crackling through the air like fire. “I gave everything for this universe! And I’ve never gotten a single thing back.” The laugh that fell from her lips surprised them both, but she kept chuckling until she was nearly manic. “How am I supposed to live off of hope and getting a pat on the back for doing good?” She doubled over, tears spilling from her lashes. “How- how was I supposed to stop him?”

“Creating a child, creating a fake life out of thin air—”

“It was real!” She bit out, standing up with a sneer on her face. “I couldn’t throw myself off that cliff because that child was real. Then, there, in that moment I was carrying Steve’s child.” She didn’t stop even though Strange sunk back, surprised and full of sadness for her. “Our baby was real right until the moment Thanos came back and bombarded us with explosions.” Her voice softened. “There was so much blood. I didn’t realize what had happened right away. Not for days, really. I didn’t know the pain wasn’t just from being thrown around trying to save humanity.” Her tears fell heavy now as she stepped back. “I lost everything saving humanity. Everything.”

Strange took a slow breath. “I’m sorry for that, Peggy, I truly am.” He held out a hand. “None of us have gotten through this without loss.”

She looked at him and his hand for a long second, even thought about taking it, but she’d come so far, and she wasn’t going to let this opportunity pass her by. Her smile was twisted as he felt his feet lift off the ground and he struggled against invisible bonds. “And what have you lost, Sorcerer Supreme?”

~*~

Chapter 1: The Hero Origin Story (Captain America: The First Avenger, part 1)

“Perhaps you’d be more comfortable—”

Erskine’s words died on his lips as they noticed the commotion in the viewing area, as MPs rushed the area, and the Generals rallied to fight a man in a suit.

There wasn’t time for a plan or ideas, no time to even think before the shots started to bounce wildly off machinery. By instinct only, Peggy turned, pushing Steve in front of her and to the relative shielding of the pod he was destined for in just a few minutes.

Breathless, he tried to switch their positions so that his back was the one exposed, but he only managed to struggle them sideways in the little pod. “Agent Carter,” he huffed out, unsure what he was going to follow it up with.

“Stay down!” She ordered, pressing his head against the padded bed and turning to pull her gun from her hip.

Before she could pull it out, an explosion rocked the facility, tumbling them back in the pod. They gripped each other tight as the brightness of the explosion faded, the pod closing in on them.

“What’s happening?” Erskine weakly called out.

“It’s damaged!” Stark’s voice was likewise scratchy. “Was there anyone in there?”

Peggy, groggy from the tumble back, shook her head and tried to bang on the glass, the space tight but not unmanageable. “We’re in here!”

“Hold tight,” Stark yelled.

“You ok?” Steve asked, wiggling in her arms.

“Fine. You?”

He didn’t get to answer. Another explosion bounced the whole apparatus and power surged through the cords. Needles that had been meant for Steve’s arms pressed in, preprogrammed to spill their precious elixir the moment the touched flesh. Instead of the meat of the biceps, the rows of needles found their spines and one thigh each of Steve and Peggy as they laid sideways. They both jolted at the sensation, surprised and scared.

Peggy’s breath shook, and she wasn’t sure if she was holding harder to Steve, he was grasping tighter, or they’d both simply latched on for dear life to the other as the bright light of the vita rays started to bounce around in the pod.

“Turn it off!” They heard Erskine shout.

Stark sounded nearly as panicked as they felt. “I can’t. It’s not responding!”

“Pull the plug!”

“That could kill them, too!”

It felt hot, like a million suns burning her skin, like a million needles in every inch of flesh, like her bones wanted to explode from her body. Suddenly, it felt like there wasn’t enough space, like there wasn’t enough air. She held tight to Steve, eyes pressed closed against the light.

She’d been prepared to die in this war, but she never thought it’s be like this.

The light and heat melted away, but it still felt too tight, too small.

She could feel Steve breathing against her, but somehow, they’d shifted and her head was cradled against his chest. She blinked her eyes open and couldn’t see a thing, but felt the rocking and grunting of the men outside trying to pry the doors open.

Steve’s voice was breathy and tired. “Agent Carter?”

“Call me Peggy,” she whispered, realizing this his chest was no longer the bony, frail thing she’d hugged to her to save him, but rather quite large and rumbling under her cheek. “If we manage to survive this, I think you can call me Peggy.”

“We’re… we’re gonna be ok.” He didn’t sound nearly as convinced as he wanted to be, she was sure.

Her hands shifted a little, taking in the muscle at his hips that hadn’t been there before, spanning inches that didn’t exist before. “You’re larger,” she whispered.

His hand ran over her arm, and she flexed under the tickling sensation. “I think we both are.”

Her breaths were finally slowing, and she began to relax in his arms, the yelling of the men outside less and less of a worry. “That why it seems so small in here?”

“Guess so.” He shifted under her. “This… this is going to sound weird.”

She laughed a bit. “Try me. I highly doubt anything you say right now would surprise me.”

“I can smell you.”

“You’ve surprised me.”

“No, no I…” She could feel the heat travel up his skin as he stuttered. “I haven’t been able to smell much of anything since I was ten, and you… you smell nice.” His chest moved against her. “I can take a deep breath, too, without coughing.”

She smiled against his chest. ���I’m glad something worked, then.”

Without preamble, the pod tipped again. The doors tilted open with a creek and Peggy and Steve spilled out to the floor. They both looked up, surprised at the fire and ash around them.

Erskine and Stark looked down at them, just as amazed.

“It worked?” Stark asked, pulling off his goggles.

Erskine smiled. “It worked.”

“Peggy…” Steve mumbled, reaching out. She turned and looked at him just as he looked down and saw his own arm.

He was enormous, busting at the seams of his clothes, and as she reached out, she heard the own cloth of her shirt tear. She looked down at where her arm had bust through the fabric, the ripple of her bicep showing through.

“Bloody Nora.”

#SteggyWeek22 #Steggy Fic #AU #What If...? AU #3p's fic

[3pirouette]

MERRY STEGGYMAS!!

I am so excited (and nervous) and HAPPY to finally reveal and start posting my Steggymas gift!

MERRY STEGGYMAS, @roboticonography!!

While I’m sorry I couldn’t get the whole thing done, here’s the Prologue and Chapter 1. More to follow ASAP this Holiday Season. 

A Red, White, and Blue Christmas

By: TriplePirouette/3Pirouette

Disclaimer: They're not mine.

Distribution: AO3 Anyone else please ask first :) 

Story Summary: White Christmas AU. Peggy is pulled from Project Rebirth, setting off a chain of events that leaves Steve and Bucky unharmed at the end of the War, but never having met her. Until, that is, their paths cross as professional performers. Steggy Secret Santa gift for Roboticonography

Story notes: Robot: I truly hope you like this. Your stories have given me hours and days and weeks of joy, and I hope this at least brings a smile to your face for this holiday season. 

I’ve wanted to Steggy this for at least a year now, and based on everything you said, my brain screamed this was the right decision and the right time to write this. White Christmas is one of my favorite holiday movies, and I see so much Steggy potential in it. If you haven’t watched it, Danny Kaye makes it 100% worth the watch alone. 

This is a fairly close retelling, with some scenes very close to the original, some very, very different, and of course the key things that make it Steggy making it Steggy. Some lines are flat out stolen and repurposed, because who can tell a Steggy story or a White Christmas story without some of our favorite quotes? There’s a lot… a LOT… of set up in the beginning of this. I hope you can get past some of the dryer parts to the fun stuff. 

I’m also still writing it. The amount of time it has taken has really surprised me, but I want to get it right. I’m going to post now, because that seems the right thing to me, but I can’t promise I won’t have to go back and make little edits if I messed something up that’s important later. 

Anyway, without further ado, here’s the beginning of my most ambitious Secret Santa fic ever. Merry Steggymas! 

~*~

Prologue: A New Arrangement of a Classic (The Variant)

Chapter Summary: A brief trip through the war in this universe and a look at how all of our favorite moments somehow were different. 

End Chapter A/N: I’m obsessed with this idea now. Peggy as a lounge singer is my new favorite thing. 

~*~

Steve couldn’t tear his eyes away from her across camp, the red of her lips and the curve of her pale stocking legs stood out in the sea of drab, green uniforms. She was the Agent who had punched Hodge that first day, who’d been about to take them through their first training exercises before she was swept away and replaced with Sargent Stott. She was talking intently with Erskine, and Steve’s eyes followed her lips until he almost dropped the rifle he was supposed to be cleaning. They turned, moving closer to the little group of men until he could hear their conversation. Steve averted his eyes, pretending to be lost in concentration as he listened. 

Erskine’s voice was deep and serious. “I wish you would stay. Your input would be invaluable. I find you to be a keen judge of character.”

“I do wish I could, doctor, but I’ve been recalled to London.” Steve looked up just in time to see her flash a blinding smile at the scientist. “You don’t need me to make the correct choice. I’d trust your judgement any day of the week.”

He’d been hoping to cross paths with her, to meet her, even though he had no idea what he’d say to her. He sighed, and focused back on his rifle. He wasn’t going to have time for pretty women if he made it into Erskine’s experiment, anyway. 

~*~

Steve let the rain pour around him, sketching in his notebook. The next show wasn’t for a few hours, and the quiet anxiety of the front seemed so much bleaker than the small towns he was used to on tour. He’d grown to miss the roaring crowds in the US. There was something about the excitement of the kids in the audience, the smiles on the faces that seemed so dour on the street, that made him feel like maybe, just maybe, he was making some sort of a difference even if it wasn’t out in the field. 

The squishing of boots moving toward him caught his attention. Howard Stark stopped before him, just as massive a character as he was the day he pulled the levers that made Steve larger than life. 

Stark smirked at him. “So, you want to be a dancing monkey all your life, or you want to see what you can really do?” 

~*~

Peggy let her hand slide over the microphone, eyes roaming the dingy club as the piano played next to her, barely in tune. 

As far as undercover jobs went, it certainly wasn’t the worst she’d ever had. It was away from the front, kept her warm and fed, and even if she didn’t get to keep the dresses and the stockings, it felt nice to feel fine clothes on her body again instead of the itchy, military wool. 

She’d pulled a lucky break with this assignment, and she’d been able to get quite a lot of information out of the generals and donors who thought the pretty English girl who could sing and would sit on their laps when she was done couldn’t understand German. 

She smiled as she started in on the chorus. One of these days, she’d get the piece of information that ended this war, and it would all be worth it. 

And when that was over, maybe she’d sing for fun. She was starting to like it. 

~*~

The Howling Commandos huddled around the fire for warmth, the snow falling around the small group of men. Dugan took a pull out of his flask. “So, what would you be doing tonight, if you were back home?” 

Bucky leaned against his friend, nearly pushing Steve off the log. “Stevie’d be singing at midnight mass.”

Heads swiveled towards him quickly, and Dugan didn’t let a second go by before he was asking questions. “Sing? No kidding. Why didn’t they have you singing in that USO show?”

Even in the firelight they could see Steve’s ears pink up in embarrassment. “They just wanted me to do a bunch of lifting and military skits. Never asked if I could sing.” Steve shrugged, clutching his metal coffee cup close. “Besides, everyone would much prefer the girls do the singing, I think.”

There was a small murmur of approval from the men, but it died as another bitter cold wind hit them, forcing them to huddle together. 

Bucky shivered and leaned closer to the fire, wishing the moment hadn’t turned so maudlin so fast. He smiled to himself and nudged his friend. “Why don’t you sing something for us. It is Christmas Eve, Stevie.”

The rest of his small team started talking over one another, calling out names of songs as their teeth chattered. Uncomfortable, Steve did the only thing he could think of, and let the little tidbit of knowledge slip on purpose. 

“Bucky can tap dance.” 

~*~

Peggy slipped into the dress shop, smiling brightly once she saw the face of her contact. She’d worked with the woman behind the counter, Rose, before. She was a good operative, and smart as a whip. Peggy knew the coded message would make it right to where it needed to be as fast as she needed it to get it there. 

“How can I help you today?” Rose asked in crisp German, though her name tag boasted Barbara in big letters. 

Peggy pretended to browse, running her hand over a soft red dress. “I’m looking for something for an important affair, that can be altered quickly.” She replied in English, letting her voice drift gently through the room. She didn’t know if there was anyone else there, and what’s she’d learned was going to change everything. 

Rose nodded, pulling out a notepad and setting her measuring tape around her neck. “Well, we have some lovely fabrics from London, but that will take two or three days to make.” She switched to English, too, her smile bright and genuine. 

Peggy let her hand linger on a blue dress, tapping her finger in a quick morse code that she knew Rose would recognize, the color of the dress under her fingers a code of its own. “I’d much prefer something quicker. By tonight if at all possible?” Urgent, the blue signaled. Highest closest, her fingers tapped out.  

Rose nodded, tapping her own morse code out with the pen on the notepad: message of urgency received. “We have a lovely silver number in from Paris, if we start now, I’m sure we can get it done by tonight. I believe the designer’s name is Phillips.”

“Yes,” Peggy smiled. “I’ve worn him before; I believe he’s just the designer for the job.” 

~*~

Chester Phillips paced in front of the 107th, every man, including the General, groggy from being woken by the messenger in the middle of the night. 

“We’ve got support coming in as we speak from London. Men, you’re to get to Zola before he gets on that train, do you hear me? And if he doesn’t give up Schmidt, our Agent on the inside is equipped with a tracking beacon, so in less than 24 hours, we’ve got him.”

Steve stifled a yawn. “Who’s the man on the inside?”

Phillips smiled. “Best damn spy you’ll ever meet.” He turned serious again. “Agent Carter’s been feeding us information for years, and today the 107th gets to help Carter end the war.” 

~*~

Steve picked ash from his hair as he watched the bustle around them, the palatial mansion filled with chatter as the Allied forces took it over.  “Did you see him?” Steve asked, nudging his friend at his side, sitting on the step to catch his breath. 

“No,” Bucky shook his head and rubbed his left arm. “I was hoping to shake Carter’s hand.”

“He gave us everything we needed to get in here and get Schmidt.” Steve looked around. “Plenty of people I don’t know, but…”

“But none of them look like spies.” Bucky finished for him, as tired and disappointed as Steve. He stood, setting his helmet back on his head. “I wonder what happened to that dame.”

Steve stood, reaching back to adjust his shield. “Dame?”

“Yeah,” Bucky nodded as they headed down the hallway. “I saw Phillips talking to some dame: long brown hair, bright red lips, sweet red dress. She was mad as hell at him.” He laughed. “Phillips grabbed her by the arm and hauled her out.”

Steve turned them towards what looked to be the laboratory where Phillips was still handing out orders. “I’m sure they’re holding her for questioning. Besides, unless I missed it, they weren’t giving out dresses this morning when I was suiting up. Let’s go, we’ve still got a lot of work to do.”

~*~

Peggy sat in the back of the Jeep, cuffed just out of reach of a handful of Hydra operatives that were handcuffed in place against a rail. As much as she hated to admit it, Phillips was right: as much as she wanted to help take down Schmidt, she still had ties to multiple high level Nazi officials. They’d play a catch and release, she could give the Axis some false information about her imprisonment, and continue to feed the Allies all the information they needed to truly end the war. 

Peggy tugged on her handcuffs and yelled a few expletives as another battalion of Hydra officers were marched past her by US forces. 

It was all coming together, and it would all be over soon.

~*~

The beer was flat and the piano was out of tune, but that didn’t matter. The war was over, officially, and they were all going home. Pinky sat next to a French officer he didn’t know at the piano, while Dugan and Morita led a group of men surrounding it in drunken songs of celebration. 

Steve watched, a soft smile on his face. They had done it, and they deserved every minute of happiness they could get out of tonight. He only turned away from them when Bucky bumped against him, sliding beer over. 

“Last time you had that look,” Bucky started, a smirk betraying the elation he felt inside despite his suspicious tone, “you asked me to follow you into a war.”

“Haven’t you heard?” Steve paused to take a big swig of his drink. “War’s over now, Bucky.”

Bucky couldn’t stop the smile that spread over his face. “Some fucking thing, that, huh? Thought I’d never live to see the day.”

“Buck—”

“No,” his warmth did turn serious now as he set his hand on Steve’s shoulder. “You saved my life. More than once, and you know it.” Steve looked down, uncomfortable under his friend’s gaze, but Bucky followed, dipping his head. “Steve, I won’t let you back out of this now. You saved my life. Literally.”

Steve grew quiet, and looked at his friend with tears in his eyes. “Well, I’m with ya ‘till the end of the line. You’re the only family I’ve got left… I wasn’t ready for it to be the end, yet.”

Bucky smiled, turning away and blinking the tears out of his own eyes. “Yeah. Yeah.” He took a drink of his beer, fighting to contain the racing emotions. “So, what were you planning on next, then?”

Steve smiled broadly, a glint on his eye. “You know, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that.” 

~*~

Chapter 1: Rogers and Barnes

Chapter Summary: We meet our heroes after the war, as Christmas nears.

Chapter A/N: Because if you don’t think these two would make and AMAZING Vaudeville singing and dancing comedy team, what are you even doing?

~*~

Bucky looked up at the marquis in the fading Florida sun, shading his squinted eyes with his hand. “It’s been three years, and I still say we sound like a law firm.”

“You gonna take the bar?” Steve deadpanned, looking up at the sign over the theater. “Barnes and Rogers doesn’t have quite the same ring.”

“I know,” Bucky shrugged and turned back, looking out at the bustling street as people moved around to get home for the night. “And I know they come to see you mostly anyway.”

 “That was only at first.” Steve tugged at Bucky’s sleeve to get him to stop looking at the sign and moved forward, knocking on the door. “Your autograph line is longer than mine, now. After a two-year run on Broadway the audience knows who the more talented one in the act is. They’re disappointed when I don’t put on the costume.”

Bucky sucked his teeth at him, disapproving of his assessment. “They still come to see you. You should get the suit back out.”

“No.” His refusal was flat as he nodded at the guard who opened the door for them. 

“You’d get more dates that way.” Bucky followed Steve into the theater, nodding at the guard as they passed. “You might get A date that way. You want to tell me why you passed on Doris again?”

“You mean the chorus girl that could barely string a sentence together?” Steve led them through the audience and to the stage door, past where the crew was dismantling their set for transport.  “I’m happy with the way things are, Bucky. I don’t need a new dame in my life every night.”

Bucky jogged to pass him, pushing the door Steve was trying to open closed to get his attention. “Just once I’d like to see you go on a date. Enjoy yourself.”

“Buck—" Steve sighed, stepping back and crossing his arms over his chest. “Come on.”

“Come on, what?” Bucky matched his stance, blocking the way to their dressing room with his body. “I know you. You’re lonely. You’re getting to be miserable to be around.”

Bucky’s observation was met with silence, only the muted sounds of hammers and the dimmed voices of the men working filled it. 

“You’ve been throwing everything with a little mascara and a skirt on at me for weeks now, Buck!” Steve finally retorted; his voice low but sharp. “I’m no good at the dating thing. You’ve seen it first-hand. I get it, why don’t you?” He sighed, defeated, when Bucky didn’t move a muscle and didn’t look away. “Can’t you just let me be? I’m happy enough with things the way they are.” Steve pushed past him, opening the door and moving through the tight hallway to their dressing room. 

Bucky cursed loudly, slamming the door closed behind him as he followed Steve farther backstage. “But you’re unhappy, Steve!”

“That’s where you’re wrong!” Steve didn’t even turn, just tossed the words over his shoulder without a care. “I’m plenty happy. I’m healthy. I have a job I love, that’s done quite well for the both of us if I do say so myself, and it has a good future.” He paused, turning at the door to their dressing room. “I don’t hassle you about taking out every chorus girl and ticket girl you can get your hands on while we’re out touring. Why do you need to try to make me do the same?”

“You know why?” Bucky stepped up to him, stopped and looked at the inadequate privacy of the hallway, and pushed their dressing room door open, shoving Steve through it before he slid in and closed the door behind him. “You want to know why?” he asked again, voice low and ranting. 

“Yes! Please!” Steve threw up his hands, leaning forward. “I’m going insane here with these girls you’re throwing at me.”

Bucky pressed his lips together, letting out a harsh breath through his nose before he continued. “Fine. Fine. You know what? Ever since that first big show on Broadway where we got to be producers, where we got to pick our own numbers and be the ones making the decisions, you’ve become obsessed. Every minute of every day you’re thinking about this show, or the next show, or the next song you’re gonna put in or the next dance routine that you’re going to have me do. You know I haven’t gotten a bit of rest for the last two years? Not one, Steve, because there you are, busting in my door in the middle of the night, shoving sheet music in my face while I’m trying to sleep.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “That was once.”

“Twice!” Bucky stood tall, pacing away and back again, “And that’s two times too many, Steve.”

Steve leaned back on his empty dressing table, kicking his toe against their packed trunks. “So, the answer is women?” He sighed, voice raising. “I like my work, Bucky. Where’s the crime in that?”

Bucky growled in frustration. “I’m glad you like it, Steve. I like it to. But I like it. I know when to stop. I know when to step away. I haven’t had one minute to myself in two years, Steve! I want to take a break. Take a vacation. Maybe use some of this money we’ve managed to make to do something fun we used to dream about, yeah? I can’t do that with you being stuck in show mode all day every day!”

Steve tossed his hands to the side, frustrated. “What do you want me to do about it?”

“What…” Bucky laughed. “What do I want you to do about it?” He laughed again, running his hands down his face in disbelief. “I want you to meet a girl, Steve. I want you to have flowers and dates and long legs and bright red lips on your mind, not duets and set changes!” He laughed again, almost maniacal. “I want you to get married, pop out six kids, and even if you only spend ten minutes a day with each one, just ten, that’s still a whole hour to myself that I get that I didn’t have before.” 

Bucky paced away, pulling the last of his things off his dressing table and stacking them in his trunk, not looking at Steve as he continued, slowly calming down. “I want you to be happy, buddy, and you ain’t.  You can pretend all day long, up and down the East Coast, but ya ain’t happy. Not fully.”

Steve sighed, letting his ire fall as he turned away to his own dressing table, opening the drawer and pulling out the last few things in there. He waited until his heart wasn’t pounding in his chest anymore to talk. “You really think I’m going to find happiness with the rocket scientists you’ve been trying to set me up with?” Steve clicked his tongue behind his teeth. “Last girl could barely put a sentence together if she didn’t read it off a page.” 

“No!” Bucky bit the word out, rolling his eyes at Steve. “But you need to get out there. Have a date or two. They’re a good place to start. Nice girls who aren’t expecting much, you know?” 

Steve put the handkerchief he had in his hand into his trunk and stopped, leaning on his hands. “The kinda girls we meet in this business are young. Ambitious. They want me to help their career or set them up in a house somewhere to be arm candy, Buck.” Steve sighed, running a hand though his hair and staring up at himself in the mirror. “They won’t get it when I wake up screaming a night because I’m remembering what I saw when we liberated that camp, or when I get the shakes because a car backfires in the street.”

Bucky stopped what he was doing, and looked at his friend, his own dour expression on his face. “The only people who get that are the ones who were there, Steve.”

Steve nodded and turned away, the heat of the argument dead after the somber turn it took. 

They descended into silence again as they finished packing up the dressing room, checking each inch for combs and last pages of sheet music that might get inadvertently left behind. Steve finally locked his trunk and stopped, leaning on it as he watched Bucky try to shove a last, nearly forgotten pair of shoes into his. “I’m not saying you’re wrong.”

“You can’t because I’m not,” Bucky mumbled through gritted teeth as he shoved a coat aside to make way for the shoes. 

Steve winced, knowing he’d be the one to steam the wrinkles out of that once they started the show back up again. “Partly.” He waited until Bucky turned to continue. “But I want…” Steve sighed, looking away. 

“You want a nice girl who wants to settle down, have a family, maybe a little white picket fence in the suburbs somewhere and a dog that you’ll have to walk every night. Am I right?”

Steve scratched his chin, looking away. “I hadn’t really thought about the dog.”

Bucky threw a soft punch at his arm. “You hadn’t thought of the dog my ass. You know that’s what you want.”

Steve almost smiled, “I know you know that’s what I want.”

Bucky laughed, moving around to stand next to him, nudging him with his shoulder. “You know I know because it’s all you talked about since you liked Betty Carpenter in the fifth grade.” 

Steve chucked. “Yeah. Yeah, I guess.”

“You know.” Bucky sighed, eyes flitting over the empty dressing room instead of at his friend. “I know you’re never going to be happy going around with girls like I am. I like the excitement of meeting new people, Steve. I like finding a new face in every town to get to know and to get the thrill of new possibilities every few weeks. I know you’re not like that. But I’m trying to help the only way I know how.”

“I know.” Steve nudged him back with his shoulder, then turned back to his trunk, lifting it easily. “One day, the right girl’s gonna come along. If she’ll have me, we’ll get started on that house in the suburbs and those six kids for you, ok?” He sighed, stopping as he reached the door. “An hour a day gonna be enough?”

Bucky smirked, lifting his own trunk with somewhat less ease. “Well, I’ll get a few more minutes to myself when you’re walking the dog, won’t I?” 

Steve led them down the hall to where the crew was starting to pile up the set pieces by the big double doors that led to the loading dock. “Not if I make a chore for the kids.”

Bucky groaned as they set down their trunks. “You would do that to me, wouldn’t you?” He sat heavily on the trunk as Steve waved their production manager over. “I’m gonna need at least three more kids, then.”

“Talk to my imaginary future wife,” Steve mumbled at him, standing up tall as their production manager approached. “How’s load out going, Will?”

“On time, Mr. Rogers.” The young man held up his clipboard and flipped through a few pages. “Cast has all signed out, all extremely happy with the time off and Christmas bonuses you’ve given them—”

“Just because we don’t have any other family to spend the holidays with doesn’t mean they should have to suffer,” Bucky commented gently, Steve nodding in agreement. 

Will smiled. “Well, we are all very grateful.” He picked up his clipboard and slipped an envelope off of it. “Your train tickets for tonight arrived just a little while ago, and I’ll make sure your trunks get right to the station.”

“Thanks again,” Steve replied, taking the tickets and looking them over. “How’s the set coming?” He handed them over to Bucky. 

Will took a quick look around. “Almost done, that’ll make it on time, too.”

“Good!” Bucky stood, flicking the envelope with the tickets in it before safely tucking it in his pocket. “We’ve got to head out- we’re checking out an act.”

“I almost forgot,” Steve mumbled. 

“I didn’t know we were looking for a new act for the review,” Will looked slightly concerned, eyes twitching back and forth between the two men. 

“Nah,” Bucky replied, clapping the young man on the shoulder. “It’s a sister act, we’re going to give them some pointers for an old Army buddy.”

Will nodded, then scrunched up his face as he thought. “Well, if they’re any good, the second act is still running short. We could spare up to seven minutes.” Will stopped, looking up at Steve. “That is, if you didn’t have something else in mind, Mr. Rogers.”

“Oh, I’m sure Mr. Rogers has something in mind.” Bucky grabbed Steve’s shoulders, turning him before he could get a word out. “Thanks for all your help, Will! Have a Merry Christmas!”

“You, too, sirs!”

Steve waited until Bucky had steered him out of Will’s earshot before wiggling out of his grip. “Why are we going to see this act again??

“Because Martinelli asked us to.” Bucky steered him out of the building and pointed downtown. 

“Martinelli? Benny Martinelli? The one from the mess?” Steve looked at him sideways as they moved down the street. 

Bucky hummed in agreement. “Same one.”

Steve sidestepped a group of kids. “I had no idea he had sisters.”

“Well, if they look anything like him, we’re already in trouble.” Bucky winced and stopped at the crosswalk, turning the Steve. “He had a face only his mother could love.”

Steve nodded, gritting his teeth, watching as the cars went by. “You know, I talked to him so many times—”

“Weaseling out extra portions,” Bucky teased. 

“Super human biology, I’ll have you remember,” Steve snuck in as they started across the street.  “He never mentioned he had sisters.”

“Who knows, we might get there and it might be him in a wig with a mop trying to pass off as a sister act.” Bucky threw his hands up and laughed good naturedly. “We’re doing an old Army buddy a favor.” 

The rest of the walk was quick, and they were ushered to a table on an outdoor veranda with more fanfare than Steve liked. “I’ll never get used to this part,” Steve mumbled. 

“Can you just try to enjoy it, for once?” Bucky whispered back, always just a little exasperated with the wat Steve didn’t quite enjoy the perks of being a famous performer and war hero. He turned to the host seating them by the dancefloor. “Excuse me, have the Martinelli Sisters gone on yet?”

“No, but they should be on in about fifteen minutes.” The man set a menu in front of them. 

“You mind telling them we’re here?”

“Of course, Mr. Barnes.”

~*~

The knock on the door startled Peggy, and she pulled her dress up to her slip-clad body, even though no one had come in to their tiny dressing room. “Who is it?” she called in an even, American accent. The host replied with his name quietly, and Peggy tossed her costume on the bench and wrapped up quickly in her robe before opening the door. “Everything alright?”

The man smiled, “Yes, quite, ladies. I just wanted to tell you, Barnes and Rogers are here, and they asked about your act specifically. Mr. Barnes even said to tell you they were here!”

Angie leaned over Peggy’s shoulder, smiling brightly. “Oh, how wonderful! Ain’t that great, Peg?” 

Peggy’s face stayed stoic. “Lovely.”

The host, feeling tension, slipped away quietly. As the door shut Peggy pulled off her robe, tossing it down and picking up her costume again. “I told you not to do it,” she huffed softly in a gentle English accent as she stepped into her gown. 

Angie deflated, sitting on the small bench at her make-up mirror. “Are you sore?”

“Sore? Yes.” Peggy’s tone was crisp and annoyed, and avoided looking at her friend as she slipped the gown up. “What happens when they find out we’re not sisters? That they’re not doing a favor for a friend because you were the one that wrote that letter?”

Angie stood and moved over to Peggy, turning her around and zipping her into her dress. “If Benny weren’t in Alaska where it takes six months to get a letter here to there and back again, he’d have done it for us. I know he woulda.” She was bright and positive, just like she always seemed to be. “Besides,” Angie turned Peggy back to her, twisting the curls around her face into place and smoothing her dress over her shoulders, “it’s good business. We keep sitting here playing little clubs waiting for fate to happen, we’ll both be old and grey.”

Peggy shook her head, finding it extremely difficult to be mad at her friend. She couldn’t help the smile that crept into the corner of her mouth. “You’re going to get us pushed right out of this business, you know. First the sister act when we’re obviously not sisters…”

“Semantics,” Angie tossed in, flapping her hand at Peggy as she turned away to put the finishing touches on her make-up. 

“And now this?” Peggy sighed, stepping over and leaning her hip against the table where Angie was finishing her make-up. She crossed her arms over her chest.

Angie looked up at her, and then shook her head, going back to her mascara. “You know, you’re clucking about like a mother hen here again.”

“Some days I do wonder how you manage,” Peggy sighed, “but I know you know what you’re doing.”

“I’ve been in this business a long time,” Angie muttered as she lined her lips, “We need to give fate a little push if we want to go places.”

“Five minutes, girls!” The call came through the door.

“Thank you!” Angie called as Peggy turned hurriedly to her mirror to make some last-minute adjustments. “Oh, stop it, English. You’re a catch. He’ll be crazy about you.”

Peggy huffed a laugh through her nose. “Which one?”

Angie winked. “Whichever one doesn’t see me first, that’s who.”  

#@roboticonography #@steggyfanevents #steggysecretsanta #Steggy Fic #3P's Fic #AU