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“Did you ever go out for that drink?” Peggy spread her paperwork out on her desk, coat draped over her chair—her usual signal that she was settling in for a long, dull night at the office.
“Pardon?” Daniel looked up from his own work, pen still caught between his fingers.
“That drink,” Peggy repeated. “Last week. You looked like you needed one.” Her smile was friendly, perfectly amiable, but it also gave Daniel flurries in his stomach like a lovesick teenage boy.
He shook his head, looking down at his files. “No, afraid not. Fixed one for myself at home later that night, though.” He cringed inwardly—did that sound self-pitying? It was true, though—he had a whiskey and water and read a crime paperback in bed, all while trying hard not to lick his wounds and failing miserably. A woman like Carter didn’t come around every day, and who was he kidding, asking her for a night out?
“I know the feeling,” Peggy said dryly, and he couldn’t help but notice the pink rise to her face…was Peggy Carter blushing? “Things have been quiet since Stark’s returned. I’m not used to quiet anymore.” The back office lights went out, showing that they were alone in the building with their folders and files and each other.
Do it, a voice in the back of his head that sounded oddly like Thompson for whatever goddamn reason goaded. Now’s your chance. You’ve got nothing to lose. But Daniel wasn’t a pushy guy, no sir, and he never wanted to be. He’d rather be alone on Friday nights than be a jerk.
Come on, here’s your chance, the voice said again, louder, and he cleared his throat as if it would will it away and sat up straighter at his desk. “Peggy, I was wondering,” he started.
“Agent Sousa, would you like to go on a date with me tomorrow night?” Peggy jutted her chin out defiantly, dark curls bouncing with the movement.
“Yes,” Daniel said immediately, no preamble, no time to think it through. A little fast, don’t you think, he thought wryly, but couldn’t muster even a little embarrassment. “Yes, I would like that very much.”
“It’s a date, then. I’ll expect you at eight o’clock sharp,” Peggy said and nodded, smiling so charming and delicate that Daniel wanted to kiss the small dimples at the corners of her mouth—oh lord, maybe I could do that someday, he thought, still dumbstruck at the whirlwind that was Margaret Carter.
There was nothing left to do but smile back at her like a fool—a happy, lovesick fool who had the world on a goddamn string. She’s always a step ahead of him—no, a jump ahead of him, a sprint, and he’d be the first to crack a joke about how his sprinting days were long gone. There was nothing Peggy Carter could do that surprised him anymore, but at the same time, she surprised him every damn day.