Work Text:
The men behind her laughed, speaking in hushed, secret tones. Peggy sighed, sinking further into her seat, eyes never leaving the paper in front of her.
This day was nothing special. Her fieldwork had been recently completed; another successful mission taking down some New York City thugs and now only paperwork remained before she could mark the case closed. And if her coworkers were making jokes behind her back, then it really was a typical, boring day at the SSR.
Peggy Carter, of course, wasn’t one egotistical enough to assume herself to be the topic of conversation just because people were whispering around her. However, experience suggested that her suspicions were true, and the men were indeed mocking her for her escapade through the back alleyways of New York that had occurred yesterday and ended in her tackling a gunman in front of a sizeable crowd. It could be jokes about her rolling around with a man, despite the fact that he was armed and trying to kill Peggy. Quite possibly, they were teasing the way she sought out public attention for her work, even though no civilians were harmed or even involved during the entirety of her operation. Or maybe it was the simple fact that Peggy had decided to wear pants instead of a dress today as if it weren’t the 1950s, for goodness’ sakes.
Biting back a groan, Peggy rolled her eyes, losing the battle of concentration. She tapped her pen against her desk, mindlessly trying to occupy her thoughts with something other than anger at her counterparts.
Just in time, a welcome surprise strolled through the door, bearing a smile and a paper-sack lunch. Steve Rogers beamed at Peggy, catching her attention immediately. Upon seeing her pained expression, however, his grin faded, the room quieting with the weight of his mere presence.
Rather than leave the moment to fester, Peggy rose quickly, taking her husband by the arm and leading him outside. In the safety of the hallway, Steve loomed over her, cupping her face with his hand, concern wrinkling his brow.
“Are you alright?” he asked softly.
Peggy snorted, shaking her head. “I work with bloody idiots. They wouldn’t know decency if it smacked them upside the head.” She paused, fuming. “And I have half a mind to, anyways.”
“They sound like punks.” Steve glanced back at the door, anger barely suppressed. His lips tightened into a thin line, but Peggy beat him to his next thought.
“You can’t punch away all my problems, Rogers.” The corners of her lips quirked. “No matter how satisfying it would be to watch.”
Steve hummed absently, eyebrows raised quizzically. He raised his arm, showing her what he had brought.
“I made you lunch.” He supplied helpfully, and she smiled, pushing aside her weariness in gratitude.
“Wonderful, thank you darling. I was hoping we could eat outside, but it’s rained all day, hasn’t it-”
“Actually, let’s eat in the office, Peg.” Steve decided suddenly, and against her protests, barrelled back into the agents’ workspace. Peggy followed reluctantly, trying not to pout in her confusion at the abruptness of his actions and the fact that she again would be disgraced by the presence of her male coworkers.
“Good afternoon, gentlemen.” Steve greeted, voice as cold as ice. The illusion of kindness was a thin veneer; Captain Rogers had emerged from the gentleness of Peggy’s husband. The military coldness and orderly sense of command domineered, and Peggy resigned herself to merely observe, unwanting to intervene with whatever retribution Steve had planned.
Silence returned his declaration, and her husband shook his head. “What, you are gentlemen, aren’t you? Can’t a man join in a friendly conversation?”
One of the quieter men spoke up, someone Peggy knew to be cowardly enough not to ringlead, but still join in on their sport of workplace sexism. “Of course, sir. You’re welcome to talk with us-”
His bumbling was short-lived, as Steve cut him off almost immediately. “And I’m welcome to mock my wife for her accomplishments, is that it? Or were you being critical of everyone here?”
Peggy leaned against her desk, arms folding as she watched her coworkers pale. Steve continued, anger pervading his tone. “As I understand it, Peggy is the most decorated, highest achieving agent here. So what might I say about you, Jackson, if you feel compelled to belittle her while not managing to do half a day’s work otherwise-”
The man spluttered, choking on his words. Yet little could stop Steve, so determined in his frustrations. It was common enough that Peggy would come home each day after work, haggled and worn by her coworkers, and although she fended off their comments, whether by her own retorts or ignoring theirs, the sense of rage and helplessness culminated in Steve. He never doubted that she could hold her own against the personal injustices, but his defense of the woman he loved was a long time coming.
“-so you may wish to keep your mouth shut. I don’t need to show you military records to prove Peggy’s worth, but your complete lack of decency may just motivate me to flash mine to your superiors during a conversation about the future of your careers.” Steve glowered at them, letting the threat linger in the tense air. “I hope I make myself clear.”
Jackson managed a nod, his face a delightful red. The strain in the room crackled, bleeding through to pure embarrassment and shame.
“I suggest you clear out, gentlemen. I would like a private lunch with Captain America, if you don’t mind,” Peggy proposed, breaking the wonderful awkwardness, sharing a long glance with her beloved in brief celebration.
One by one, the men of the SSR filed out of the room, tails tucked between their legs. Steve leaned over Peggy, kissing her against the upturns of her lips, relishing their victory and the passion with which Peggy rewarded him for his successful efforts and display of love.