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The two weeks straddling his rescue were some of Peggy’s worst. The fact that Captain America, her Steve, had been found by Howard Stark hadn’t been the joyful moment it should have been. Apparently, Howard’s idea of keeping a low profile while she was left behind to try to clear his name was setting off for a secret Arctic expedition. One he hadn’t clued her in on in the least. The U.S. military’s search and rescue missions, later simply called recovery missions, ceased altogether not long after Steve’s crash. And now, not only had Steve been found, but he was alive.
She didn’t cry. She didn’t get the chance. Colonel Phillips only managed to wrangle her in to see him for five minutes before he was shipped off to D.C. despite promising to see her soon. Apparently the War Department didn’t know what to do with him yet, and so the return of Captain America laid quiet.
Steve Rogers, the Steve she had post-war plans with was alive and well. They should have been dancing all night long. They should have been clutching each other close, not letting the world tear them apart. Again.
Instead, the classified meeting in Brooklyn, officially never happened. Phillips had flagged down a cab to take her back to the SSR offices, where she was meant to maintain a low profile and let them continue to look into the disappearance of Stark’s inventions. Even though clearly the high-ups had to know by now that he wasn’t a traitor.
“You’re late,” she had told Steve, awestruck when she’d seen him standing on his own two legs. She pinched herself making sure it wasn’t a dream. Another fantasy.
“I’m sorry Peg,” he said, his eyes roaming her face, his hand reaching out for hers only to have to drop it a moment later as the room filled with high-ranking officials.
She was reminded of the anger that had occasionally come. Part of her grief. Anger at Steve. At not having given her his damn coordinates. Anger at these officials. Sycophantic pencil-pushers. Anger at having Steve taken away from her again. And how he wasn’t fighting it. How he wasn’t fighting to stay with her. Again.
Angry.
She’d been angry for months. Stuck with an honorary Agent title when she was considered beneath all the rest at work. Her credentials and record, however often she’d proven it an exemplary resource, was never more than a fluke, a cute card trick. Not worth recognition.
And that’s why she’d been risking her neck, her already inherently low credibility, to clear Howard Stark’s name.
She was angry.
She loved Steve. And he was gone again.
*
Thompson had always been a brute, crude. Utterly reprehensible. But never had his bollocks stung as much as they did that night. Of seeing the imbecile in power while she ran around collecting lunch orders, trying to convince herself her secret mission was still a cause to fight for.
Although living at the Griffith provided many benefits, even from the forced socialization, which admittedly was probably good for her, especially when she had just started feeling comfortable confiding in Angie. Still, the warm lighting coming from the lobby made her take a deep breath and steel her nerves. She placed a placid smile on her face and started on what meant to be a brisk march past the front desk and into the solemn privacy of her room.
Only upon entering, she noticed not only Miss Fry staring pointedly at her but she was conversing with a tall man. She paused midway through the door. She’d know that head, even from the back, anywhere.
Steve rushed over to hold the door for her, as she looked on in surprise.
“What are you doing here?” she hissed from the corner of her mouth, still trying to maintain the easy expression as Miss Fry watched them owlishly over her spectacles.
She hadn’t even known he was back in town. And she found it infuriating that he just smiled at her.
“I am here to pick you up for our scheduled dinner date, Miss Carter,” he said in a proper tone, loud enough for Miss Fry to hear.
Peggy’s lip twitched but she did not allow for a full smile. She was still upset. And it was infuriating for him to come here unannounced and unexpectedly. Especially given the state of her day. It only made the pull of Steve stronger.
“I have an appointment to keep later,” Peggy muttered so Miriam couldn’t overhear. Steve didn’t move, staunchly smiling with polite determination. “Alright. I’ll have to go freshen up,” Peggy replied louder.
“Miss Carter,” Miriam called from her desk, “let’s not forget our rules here at the Griffith.”
Steve turned and gave her a dashing smile. “I shall be waiting for you right here in the lobby,” he assured with a smile before taking a seat on the bench across from the front desk, perfectly in view of Miss Fry’s observation.
Peggy gave a smile to Miriam before turning toward the stairwell. When Peggy returned in a favorite navy dress, demure and elegant enough for inspection, Steve maintained his eyes on her face.
“You look lovely, Miss Carter,” he said. “I will make sure to have her back well before curfew, Miss Fry. Have a good evening,” he said with the bow of his head.
They didn’t talk for a few blocks.
“Where are we going? I’m tired and I’d rather not have to traipse around in these heels without aim,” she said in frustration.
Steve scratched at his head. “I’m… Not really sure actually. I just wanted to see you. I just got back from D.C. this morning.”
She crossed her arms. “And you didn’t think to call first?”
He stuck his hands into his pockets and shrugged. “I’m sorry. I just…”
She nodded.
“I know. I apologize for my foul mood. It’s been a trying day.”
She did know. She wasn’t sure why she was so upset. Steve was back. He’d come right to her. Peggy rolled her neck and let out a sigh.
Steve paused mid-step, gently touching her shoulder.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
She sighed, shrugging herself. “There’s a diner two blocks from here. Decent sandwiches. Passable coffee.”
She led the way, and together they slid into a booth, Steve ignoring the menu entirely in favor of watching her. Staring. Like he could see right through her exterior and into the heart of her bad day.
“Is it those jerks at work? Stark told me they haven’t been taking you seriously.”
She let out a low growl. “I don’t want to talk about Howard. As if he weren’t the cherry atop an already terrible day.”
“Peggy.”
The sound of his voice saying her name, the care in it, the softness that she had been missing for the last year. It all came rushing back to her and she was fighting tears. Steve got up and sat on her side of the booth before she knew it, pressing his shoulder against hers. She covered her face with her hands as the tears started to flow, fighting for composure. She didn’t dare look up.
Steve ordered for them, asking the waitress to wrap up two sandwiches and slices of pie.
“Let’s get out of here,” he murmured once the waitress returned with a brown paper bag.
Silently, he led her out into the street and into a cab. They stopped in front of a plain looking building sandwiched between two just like it.
“Where are we?” she asked, voice scratchy.
“The temporary apartment the military gave me while they figure out when the best time to declare me undead is,” he told her, taking her up to the second floor to a small, just barely furnished apartment. “I’m not supposed to bring anyone here. But you’re not just anyone.”
A small smile managed to make its way to her face. Steve laid out their dinner on the square table and Peggy forced the sandwich into her mouth.
“I was angry,” she told him, setting down her sandwich. “I was angry at you. That you didn’t give me your coordinates. That I couldn’t rescue you.”
He frowned, dragging his chair over.
“I know Peg. I’m sorry.”
The tears started to flow again and she shook her head. “You did what had to be done. I do understand that. I do respect it. I just… Steve you have no idea how hard the past year has been. What losing you was like.”
He nodded, scooting his chair closer to take her hand.
“I never wanted to,” he murmured.
“The war ended and I came here. To New York. I thought I’d continue the work we started. I thought I was used to being on my own. And suddenly you were gone, all the rest still having purpose and direction. And all I had left was time to think about losing you.”
He gently touched her cheek until she met his eyes.
“I had my compass open to your picture. You were the last thing I saw. And the first thing I thought of when I woke up,” he said. “I never wanted to hurt. Never wanted to put you through any pain. And I’m not going to lose you again.”
Her sobs grew louder, especially at the sight of his tears. She reached for him blindly, pulling him into her arms.
They could have sat there, wrapped in each other’s arms forever. Peggy finally broke the hug and dabbed at her eyes.
“Later we’ll have to talk about Stark,” she told him with a sigh. “But for now, let’s just have dinner.”
Once they had eaten, Peggy led him over the sofa where they had a good long talk while Steve dutifully kept an eye on the time. She’d complained about work and the other Agents. He admitted he’d waited in the lobby of the Griffith for nearly two hours before she showed up, having to quickly figure out Miss Fry in order to try to wipe some of her disapproval away.
“Good luck with that,” Peggy had taunted him. “She already just barely tolerates me.”
He grinned with a shrug.
“I still believe you can win over anyone.”
“I don’t need to win over anyone else Steve, so long as I have you.”
“You have me.”
*
Steve continued to wait for Peggy in the Griffith lobby before scheduled dates, always making polite small talk with Miss Fry. He’d adhered to her rules to the letter, and slowly her disdain for his frequent calling upon Peggy turned to reluctant approval. They had agreed to keep up the regular appearance at the Griffith, so as to rid Miss Fry of a few unsavory assumptions about women from the telephone company. After all she had enough to deal with balancing a secret investigation and now an unofficially alive Steve Rogers, among the daily trials of working at the SSR.
One evening, his presence surprised her as they hadn’t planned on meeting beforehand.
“I’ll make sure to look into that job posting, Miss Fry,” Steve said. “Thank you so much for your advice. Have a good night.”
Steve had set down the notebook and newspaper in his hand, excusing himself from Miss Fry’s presence to greet her.
“What was that about?” she asked Steve.
“Oh well, I told Miss Fry how I had been injured in the war and only recently was released since I had to give a reasonable explanation for not having a job right now.”
Peggy snorted. “It’s none of her concern,” she said. “You should have called. Now I’ll have to come back to change before heading out on my stakeout.”
“I wanted to take you out for dinner,” Steve said with a smile. “Is this stakeout a lead on Stark’s stolen inventions?”
Peggy quirked her lip. “And you have come to this assumption how?”
“Wild guess. Although I do happen to have my own connections. So, need any help?”
“That bored?”
“So bored. I’m sick of waiting for them to figure out what to do with me. And I want to help. Maybe if I help you solve this Stark thing, I can be officially alive again.”
“It’s too risky Steve. And I’ve got it handled. Now where are you taking me?”
This time, he came prepared with a real restaurant reservation. And by the end of the evening, he’d made a very persuasive argument in favor of being allowed to help her investigative efforts.
*
Despite his continued presence, and his more than polite propriety with Miss Fry, Peggy felt a wave of frustration again. Especially when walking into the lobby to hear Steve making Miss Fry giggle like a schoolgirl, utterly charmed, while he regarded her in a lukewarm manner. As if her were just some run of the mill gentleman caller. As if they were anything other than Agent Carter and Captain Rogers.
Because of his adherence to her rules and chivalry, on many occasions fixing high shelves on the first floor, and tucking away heavy deliveries that deliverymen never seemed to leave where she requested, Miriam had grown a fondness for Steve. She’d come to calling him Steven in an affectionate tone, and had invited him into her office for coffee and a chat on more than one occasion.
She should have been pleased. And she was. Truly. An exceptionally considerate man, just as he’d always been. But then she’d hear the whispered illicit stories of the other girls discussing their hidden-from-Miriam romantic encounters: stolen moments on the grounds and lobby; sneaking in and out; even the prospect of their guy calling up them in the middle of the night, risking Miss Fry’s wrath.
It was stupid. She had Steve back. And to be fair, she did sneak out regularly. And Miss Fry was unaware of just how many outings with Steve she’d actually had.
Still…
“You know you don’t have to butter Miss Fry up so much. She already likes you far more than me,” Peggy said one night when Steve accompanied her to meet Jarvis. “Besides it’s not like you’re one to ever ease up a little on her rules,” she muttered under her breath.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Well I’m not saying you should climb the drainpipe to my window, honestly you’d probably rip it clean off. And it’s quite unnecessary since I know where you live and how to get out of here undetected. But you may act less like a dispassionate bloke and more like a man hopelessly in love.”
“But I am in love. And I like being nice to Miss Fry. She kind of reminds me of this neighbor we once had in Brooklyn. Kind of a den mother but—”
He didn’t get a chance to finish the thought because Peggy had pulled him by his jacket and her lips were over his, hot and slick and he certainly couldn’t think anything other than the need to kiss her back. She pressed him against a wall, her hands running through his hair and he couldn’t help the sighs escaping him. Steve chased her lips when she started pulling away. Peggy laughed quietly at the whines coming out of him.
“What was that for?” Steve asked in a daze.
“You said you were in love.”
Steve blinked back into focus. “You knew that I loved you.”
The casual breeze in which he said it made Peggy pause, the world freezing around her.
“I love you too Steve.”
Steve’s smile was overwhelming. And the next thing she knew, he’d lifted her off the ground, soft lips against soft lips.
“So wait,” Steve started, “what about a drainpipe? And who’s been climbing into your window?”
She ignored him and pulled him back in for a kiss.
“And tell me you’re not jealous of Miriam Fry,” he teased with a grin.
She growled just before he covered her mouth with his.
They were late to meet Jarvis, who discreetly handed Steve a handkerchief to wipe at a stray bit of lipstick on his face.
*
Miriam came to enjoy Steve’s visits, his calls for Miss Carter. Over a cup of coffee he’d always inquiring on her wellbeing, even asking about that niece of hers, the piano prodigy, that she had mentioned several visits earlier. He never failed to show up perfectly attired, shoes polished, face always freshly shaved, always escorting Miss Carter all the way into the lobby well before curfew. Yes, he was a rarity, a fine man indeed.
“Mr. Rogers, I know you are quite attached to Miss Carter, but as a gentleman of the highest character, I am compelled to warn you,” she told him one afternoon. “Ladies from the telephone company have always concerned me. And the hours Miss Carter keeps,” she tutted. “I am concerned you may find unsavory, or unsuitable aspects to her person. Especially for a matrimonial connection,” she said pointedly. “There is even a gentleman who drops Miss Carter off on occasion.”
“Miss Fry, I appreciate your concern. You have dedicated yourself to protecting the fine young women of the Griffith. But I promise you that Miss Carter has always been honest with me. And as far as the gentleman, he is a mutual friend whom I appreciate taking the time to look out for her when I cannot.”
She hummed, seemingly satisfied by his response as she refilled his cup.
*
“Miss Carter, a moment please,” Miss Fry stopped Peggy one day on her way to the stairwell.
“Yes, Miss Fry?”
“I’ve noticed you have been spending quite some time with that young man.”
Peggy tilted her head innocently. “Steve?”
“Yes. And I must tell you Miss Carter,” she paused, her face so serious it unnerved Peggy, “that is the kind of suitable gentleman you marry.”
Miss Fry was still gravely serious, but Peggy couldn’t help but smile.
“Yes, Miss Fry. You are quite right.”
The longing and love Peggy felt must have been evident, because she swore Miss Fry gave a rare smile before dismissing her.
Peggy couldn’t help smirking all the way up to her room knowing just how quickly Steve had won Miriam Fry’s affection. She was proud that her boyfriend was worth of earning Miss Fry’s respect. For a brief moment, before sneaking out to work on her case, she let herself daydream about a white dress, a ring, a home, a family. Mostly it had been Steve she had pictured, his kind eyes, his hand in hers. After all this time, there was nothing else she wanted in her life. Just Steve. Peggy traced the edge of the photo of Steve on her vanity.
After a long moment, she checked her pistol and headed out into the night.
It was a few nights later, curled up on the couch in Steve’s apartment that she considered Miss Fry’s words again. Steve was making her a cup of tea in the kitchen after having just spent close to an hour rubbing her throbbing and possibly sprained ankle.
Yes, definitely, the man Peggy would marry.