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After brushing her teeth gingerly this morning, a plate of bacon and toast taunts Peggy.
Well, this was...not good. Peggy had been relying on soft food like oatmeal to not upset her teeth. She glares at the offending plate.
"Something wrong?" Steve asks, setting his own plate down on the kitchen table with an innocent smile.
She scoffs inwardly. Steve one hundred percent knew what he was doing. Well, that was fine , Peggy isn't one to back down from a petty challenge. She plasters a fake smile. "Nope, it looks great. Thank you, Darling.” she begins to slowly pick at her bacon, taking tiny bites and trying not to upset either side of her jaw.
“You should really go to the dentist, Peg.”
“No.” Peggy replies firmly, leafing through the newspaper. She takes a bite of her breakfast, trying in vain not to wince in pain as she chews. "I'll be just fine, Steve."
"I saw that." Steve says.
She glares at him. "I'm sure it'll go away on it's own. You worry too much." She chides, chewing her next bite of food much more gingerly.
"Wisdom teeth don't go away on their own, Peg." Steve points out.
"Well it's a good thing that my teeth are better than average," Peggy declares.
"Says who?"
"Says I."
"Someone's in denial." Steve eggs her on, knowing full well what he's doing. Really, the only way to get Peggy to the dentist was to challenge her into doing it.
"I am not!" She huffs.
"So just go to the dentist then," Steve replies as if it’s the most simple thing in the world.
" Fine , I will, if you're so worried about it." She crosses her arms. "I'll go on Friday. I'll call in sick for Saturday and then I'll have a three-day weekend to recover." She says, thinking out loud.
"That's smart," Steve says, beginning to skim the newspaper now that she was done with it.
She points her finger at him in an accusatory manner. "I'm only going because of you . My teeth are fine, I assure you."
"If you insist."
“You’re going to need your wisdom teeth out as soon as possible, I’m afraid. Luckily, I can fit you in either today or tomorrow,” the dentist says.
Peggy visibly deflates. “Well, might as well get it over with today,” she answers. “It’ll be worth it to finally be able to chew without some pain,” Peggy says determinedly. “By the time you see me my mouth will look good as new.” She flashes him a tiny smile despite her own inner anxiety.
A little less than an hour later, the surgery is done.
“Hey,” Steve greets, noticing how she looked rather worse for wear (as to be expected).
She turns her head to look at him, groggy and disoriented. “Hey.” She parrots.
“How are you feeling?”
“...I ‘ant feel my mouth,” she mumbles, a bit incoherent from the gauze in her mouth, sounding very defeated. She slowly reaches up to touch her mouth in confusion.
“The orthodontist says the anesthesia should only last a few hours,” Steve explains. “We can go home in a little bit.” he adds, and he can tell by the look in her eyes that she didn't listen to a word he said. He didn't blame her, of course.
Peggy looks around as if to check there's nobody listening before urging him closer with a tilt of her finger, a goofy smile on her face. “I ‘ave to tell you something,” she says, her words somewhat slurred. “Is’sa secret,” she says, looking at him very seriously.
Steve smiles amusedly. “Okay, I’m listening,” he leans in closer.
She grins sleepily, grasping the collar of his shirt to bring him even closer. “Don’t tell my husband this, but I think you’re really sexy,” she confesses.
“...Peggy, I am your husband.”
“Oh.”
While getting Peggy home was easy enough, the first real challenge began once they got home.
"I don't want to wear a skirt," Peggy complains, her words slurred.
"I'm not making you, Pegs. I'm gonna get you in your pajamas." Steve returns, leading her through the hallway.
Peggy huffs like a petulant child. "I don’t want t' wear pajamas."
"Well, what do you want to wear?" he asks, leaning against the bedroom door frame.
She hums. "What I wore last night to bed," she says. "'s blue."
"You mean your blue nightgown?" He asks, pointing to the nightgown lying neatly folded on the bed (it hadn't gotten much use the night before, anyway).
She shakes her head. "No, that." She says, pointing to the exact nightgown he did.
"...Okay."
Very little was able to exhaust Steve Rogers - but something told him that Peggy was going to wear him out .
"Pegs, what are you doing?" Steve asks, a little dumbfounded at the perplexing way she was laying. Her neck was at an uncomfortable angle, her face pressed against the wall. Suffice to say, it made Steve's neck hurt just looking at it.
"Th' wall's cold," she murmurs tiredly. "And I don't have any ice for m'face." she shoots him as angry as a glare she could muster despite how tired she looked.
Steve nearly scoffs. He was gone for less than a minute. "I have ice for you in my hand . Your neck's gotta be killing you."
"Can't feel my upper half," she explains, gesturing to her face loosely.
Well, on the one hand, Steve almost couldn’t argue with that logic. "Okay, well, you're going to still feel that at some point. Just lay down, you can ice your face and we can listen to Broadway is My Beat ."
She groans in complaint. "Wall's cold."
Steve sighs inwardly. "Ice is colder." he explains smoothly.
Peggy makes a noise of protest. “But…” she trails off. "M' mouth hurts."
Deciding to try a different approach since it was clear he wouldn't get her off her spot on the couch, he offers her his free hand. "We can go lay down on the bed if you want. I've got you an ice pack and everything."
Finally, she nods slowly. "Carry me," she demands.
"Only because you asked so nicely."
The rest of the afternoon is mostly spent napping and relaxing, neither of the couple is quite willing to do much. Peggy had hardly moved besides going to the bathroom once.
"Steve?"
"Yeah? Do you need something?" He asks, sitting up a little.
"I want soup," Peggy whispers, her eyes closed, still resting her head on his chest.
"You can't have soup, you're not supposed to have hot stuff for a few days."
She mutters something unintelligible (Steve was able to make out the word "wanker" somewhere in there), beginning to fall asleep.
At some point, Steve falls asleep himself, only to be awoken by Peggy nearly two hours later. " Steve . Steve. Wake up." She nudges him awake.
The first sight he's greeted with is a very disoriented-looking, messy-haired Peggy. "...What? What's wrong?" He asks, sitting up.
"We need to go to th' dentist. I need my wisdom teeth out." she claims, pointing to her mouth.
"You already got them out, Pegs. Look, if you want proof, you got your mouth blood on my shirt."
She doesn't listen. "But I hafta go to th' dentist," she repeats weakly. "My mouth feels odd."
"That'll happen, Peg. But you already got them out. You're gonna be fine."
“No. You don’t understand.” She pouts, turning her head to look at him.
“Peggy, you’re gonna be fine. Just try to relax.” He sits her up properly,
“But I don’t want to go back to sleep.” She whines.
Steve sighs. “I never said you have to go back to sleep. Just...relax, okay? I’ll be right back, let me go to the bathroom.”
“Bring me soup.” Peggy demands, her face already buried in the pillow.
“You know you can’t have it.”
“You’re stupid,” she mutters, her words slurred. She’s asleep by the time Steve gets back, sprawled out on the bed like a starfish. He’s grateful that Peggy's asleep at the least, knowing she needs to recover.
Later that evening as the couple continued laying in bed, Peggy began to shift, restless, groaning softly in pain, Steve's arms wrapped around her as he lay with her.
"St-eve," she says, weakly, though apparently loud enough for Steve to hear her, because he does so immediately. "Huh?" He asks, confused, being shaken awake.
"I-I can't feel my mouth." she explained, panicked.
Steve sighs, not exactly surprised at that, but also not happy about it.
"Try not to worry about it. I'm sure it'll go back to normal in the morning." he explains, standing up from the bed.
"Where are you going?" Peggy asks.
“I’m gonna get you some ice cream,” he explains.
She nods tiredly, her eyes still a bit closed and half-covered in sweat.
By Sunday, Peggy feels much better, thank God.
She wakes that morning with significantly less pain. Peggy wakes first with a sigh, not willing to get out of bed despite her own hunger.
“Hey,” Steve says groggily. “How’re you feeling?”
"I'm feeling quite better already," she clicks her tongue. "My mouth still hurts...but, I think it's something I can live with. At least my gums aren't bleeding anymore."
"That's good," Steve replies.
"I don't remember too much from the last day and a half, but I think it certainly helped that you're such a good nurse to me," she adds, nudging him playfully.
Steve smiles back at her in lieu of a reply.
"Was I a good patient?" She asks. "I've heard many a story of people being absolute heathens whenever they get anesthesia,"
Steve opens his mouth to reply before deciding against it. This was definitely one of those situations where he didn't have anything nice to say - so he just wouldn't say anything.