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It had been quite a wonderful life for the two of them. After nearly five years of pussyfooting around the subject of how nicely the two really had gotten along, Howard had finally been the one to ask Peggy out on a date. And Peggy, despite being a firm believer in the stupidity and playboy-ish nature of Howard Stark, said yes. Over drinks, dinner and dancing the two found a suitable and whirlwind romance, leading to a wedding just six months later.
He respected and loved her with the type of hopeless devotion that many could only dream of, and she couldn’t deny that some of Howard’s more… Howard-like behaviors made her feel as giddy as a young girl, so the two worked, lived and loved perfectly together.
They had never had children. That is not to say they didn’t try, nor that either Mr. and Ms. Stark opposed the idea. Instead, this is mentioned as a point of change for the couple, a small hang up that never negatively impacted their marriage, but did become a common talking point. With their combined knowledge and interventions from the best doctor’s Mr. Stark could find they still came up with no answers, leaving the two to share their love with each other and the growing number of extended family members SHIELD had presented to them.
For many 1969 was the year of love, and the two lovebirds in the midst of celebrating their twentieth wedding anniversary were not exempt. Cashing in on vacation days and some unused sick days, Peggy and Howard spend a month in Venice. They take in the sights and each other’s presence under the backdrop of love and peace.
By the time the couple returned to DC things were slowing down, or at least they thought.
“Do you still feel bad?” Howard’s awoken by the commotion of Peggy getting back in bed and snuggling closer to his side.
“If President Johnson asks, I do not feel like eating veal ever again,” She sighs, fighting off her third week of food poisoning. As much as she had enjoyed making acquaintance with Linden and Lady Bird over the last decade, they were true Southerners, over saturating every meat in layers of cream.
“You really should see a doctor,” Howard’s hands snake around her waist as his lips settle on her neck, kissing her clammy skin in worry. “I’ve never seen you this sick before.”
“This too shall pass,” Peggy sighs, catching the last yawn before falling asleep, “besides, I can’t miss another day, I’m partially convinced that if I take yet another day the war department will send out nuclear bombs.”
It doesn’t. Two weeks later Peggy is still sick to the gills, sitting now on the paper wrapping of her doctor’s examination table.
“I thought it must have been food poisoning or the flu, but nothing I’ve taken has made me feel better.”
Dr. Mackin nods, “Any other symptoms besides the nausea? Headaches perhaps.”
“In my line of work, headaches are as regular as paychecks. No more or less than usual, I think.”
“How about your cycle?”
“I haven’t had it in two months, but I’m 48 years old, I hardly doubt that…”
“Ms. Carter, anything is possible.”
Dr. Mackin tells her that they’ll have an answer by the end of the week but Peggy isn’t too optimistic, already planning to contact a different doctor to figure out what really has gone wrong.
“Any news?” Howard’s out in the garage and tinkering with the automatic bird feeder he made when she gets home, his button up shirt open and revealing his undershirt.
“Nothing no,” she pouts, tucking her keys in her purse, “I’ve got an appointment with Dr. Seward in a week to see what’s wrong.”
“I can’t believe you’re still sick, almost thirty years of knowing you, I don’t ever think I’ve seen you have as much as a sniffle.”
“You know it’s funny,” she hadn’t planned on divulging this, but as she sits down on the stool next to him it slips with a smile, “Dr. Mackin thought that there’s a chance I might be pregnant. He had me take a test, even though you and I know…”
There’s a clattering sound of metal tools hitting the concrete floor as Howard faces her, beads of sweat trailing down his nose. He doesn’t speak, but simply acts, wrapping her in his sticky arms. She’s slightly rigid in his arms as she too stays quiet, immediately feeling a bit of regret for being honest.
“Honey, there’s such a small chance that I’m” She whispers.
“Shhh,” Howard silences her with a kiss, “Let’s take that chance then,”
“Director Carter here,” She’s just about to leave work early to see Dr. Seward when her phone rings, Christian, her secretary, mentioning that the call was urgent.
“Ms. Carter,” Dr. Mackin’s voice is rough and hollow, and Peggy can feel her spine quickly melt into fear, “the results of your pregnancy test are back.”
Peggy sits back down in her desk chair, gripping the phone as if it was a lifeline, “Yes.”
“It seems that your test came back positive. Now because of your age, I’d like to recommend a termination, but if you do wish to continue with the pregnancy I can direct you to doctors more experienced with geriatric…”
“Yes, yes. I’d like that please.”
Her hands are shaking as she hangs up and begins to dial Howard’s extension, ultimately deciding it is easier to walk up the three flights of steps to his office. Everything around her feels as if it is spinning in a bright and colorful whirl as her knuckles rap three times on the door.
“McClosky, I told you already…”
Peggy barges in, delighting in how disgusting the smell of Howard’s cigar makes her feel.
“Are you leaving now?” His lips pucker to meet her own as his hand rests on the back of her neck, “I hope Dr. Seward will be able to tell you what’s wrong.”
Peggy’s voice is cheery and laced with giddy glee as she remembers the appointment she had initially made. “I don’t need to see Dr. Seward.”
Howard’s a smart man, one of the smartest she’s ever met, but he looks at Peggy as if she’s got two heads, cocking his own slightly to the left, “You don’t?”
“I don’t,” She beams, “I’m expecting.”
There’s a singular laugh that perforates the air before Howard pulls Peggy into his lap, kissing her face and neck with the same vigor that had seemingly got them in this predicament.
Howard’s the only man in the waiting room of the obstetrician’s office but he couldn’t be more proud. He’s fidgeting slightly as he waits for Peggy to come out of the examination room, trying to contain his excitement by thinking about all the inventions he could tinker up for the baby.
Peggy was going to be an excellent mother. She was fiercely loyal and loving, with a beautiful face and a competitive nature that made even the most mundane task interesting. She had seen the best in him and taken him as he was, and any woman with that patience alone would be incredible at raising children.
As for himself, Howard Stark was certain he would be a… decent father. He was certainly over the top and often called the life of the party, but he had never had to take care of anyone younger than himself. An only child that graduated college at age 12, Howard was acutely aware of how his stilted childhood had made him, and he worried that he would be unable to be nearly as wonderful at relating to a little tyke.
“Well?” He nearly bolts up from his seat, firmly placing a hand on each of Peggy’s shoulders.
“May,” She answers softly, the word lingering on her lips in the form of a smile.
“May,” Howard laughs, “May… that’s great! What did my secretary say? That’s a Taurus or something, I don’t know she’s very much one of those new-age hippie types. But that’s seven months from now, which means I’m going to have to start switching up some of my projects to be more baby friendly. And You, God,” His lips peck at Peggy’s cheeks, “You’re the most wonderful woman in the whole wide world, you know that, right?”
Right now, Peggy looks just as lovely as the first day he met her, but her lips seem to twitch twice before she speaks again, much like the first time she found out that her brother was alive back in ‘48. He’s certain she was happy in both of these cases, but something else is pulling at her, be that fear or self doubt.
“The doctor says I’m going to need to take it easy if we want this to work,” she answers, unable to look her husband in the eyes, “it can be a bit difficult for women my age to carry a baby to term. So that means as little stress as possible.”
“Does he know what kind of work you do?”
“Honey, he recommended I take leave from work after I told him.”
Tracing the lines of worry on her face with his eyes, Howard leads Peggy to the car, “Don’t you worry about anything. I’ll keep the dunderheads and paperpushers in line until you come back.”
One Month Later
The house could never have been cleaner. One month into her one year sabbatical Peggy had decided that everything in the house would need to be adequately cleaned if it was to ever come in contact with the baby. She washed the windows, dusted the picture frames, bought new sheets for the bed, and threw out anything in the kitchen that was even nearing its expiration date to keep herself and the baby safe.
Things didn’t feel too different physically. She was still waking up each morning with the most obnoxious case of nausea followed by sinus headaches that lasted until she finally found the time and stomach energy to drink a hot cup of tea and eat a piece of lightly buttered bread. In fact, it surprised Peggy to hear from her doctor that she had actually gained a pound in the last month.
“How was work?” The question almost eagerly ran off her lips every afternoon as Howard came home.
He greets her with a kiss and a loving pat on her stomach, “Exhausting. How you keep up with everything and not go gray will amaze me until the day I die.”
“I do go gray,” Peggy teases, “I just use the right hair dye.”
One Month Later
“We don’t have to go if you don’t want to,” Howard watches Peggy with a critical eye as she stands half-dressed in the bedroom. Usually that proposition was enough to garner a yes from her, but Peggy stays quiet, keeping her eyes glued directly to the bedroom mirror.
“I want to go, but I’m going to sound very conceited,” Peggy answers without turning her head, “ I don’t have anything to wear.”
Fixing his cufflinks, Howard steps closer to her side, wrapping his arms around her shoulders, “What about the pink one? Your boobs always look really nice in that one.”
“I don’t fit in it anymore,” The last week of being unable to keep anything down was quickly followed by four weeks of making up for lost time, and Peggy’s recent interest in cheeseburgers from McDonald’s had provided her with a cushion of five extra pounds situated firmly around her hips. It was a good sign with all things considered, but she hadn’t had any time to buy anything suitable, especially in time for SHIELD’s annual Christmas party.
“The green one maybe? You always called that one your fat dress anyway.”
“Howard Anthony Walter Stark, are you implying that I’m fat?”
It looks like Howard is cautiously struggling to figure out how to remove his foot from his mouth, “I didn’t… No, I just… Maybe I meant…”
“Sweetheart,” Peggy chuckles, “I’m only joking. Now, help me find that dress so that we may enjoy our last Christmas Eve before we have to take on the role of Father Christmas.”
“Huh, I never thought of that until now.” He beams.
“And I hadn’t thought to wear my green dress, that’s why we’re perfect for each other.”
The duo sleep in on Christmas morning, huddled closely together in childlike anticipation. Peggy slowly opens her eyes just as the ten am sun streams through their window, the alluring temptation of the box of Christmas cookies from Mrs. Gerald Ford was ever a good sign to the changing ways of her condition. Silently, she slides into her slippers, walking down into the kitchen with soft footsteps.
The first treat is heaven on Earth, sweet morsels of chocolate wrapped neatly within a chocolate caramel cookie. Almost as if she’s back in the days of rationing, Peggy quickly snatches a second, pouting immediately as the impostor cookie passes her lips.
“Raisins,” She whispers, “why on bloody Earth would anyone want a cookie with raisins?”
“I happen to like raisins,” Howard interjects, startling Peggy slightly. “My mother used to make the absolute best oatmeal raisin cookies using only a box of raisins, some oats, and a jar of applesauce.”
“Wonderful, you can have this one then.” She holds up the bitten cookie as a cat proudly holds the bird it has just killed, waving it idly in the air.
After a good number of cookies have been split between the two of them, Howard leads Peggy over to the tree, sliding a singular box across the coffee table with a single push of his index finger.
“This is for the baby, actually, but I figured you’d like it to.”
The green paper slides to the floor gently as Peggy unwraps the box, revealing a mountain of tissue paper and a familiar logo she hadn’t seen in years. Her mouth gently parts into a smile as she extracts the stuffed animal nearly identical to the one sitting on the hope chest in their bedroom.
“When did you find the time to go to Hamleys?” A time worn memory flashes through her mind as she snuggles the bear closely to her chest, the smell of fish and chips and her father’s aftershave seemingly wafting through the air.
“Are you sure this is the one you want, Peggy?”
“Oh, ab-suh-lutely, Daddy.” The six year old slurs without her two front teeth, “it’s the most handsome teddy bear in the world.”
“Actually, I pulled a few strings and had someone go and pick it up for me. I figured it might be nice for the tyke to have something reminiscent of their mother’s homeland.” Reaching behind the tree, Howard pulls out a second, smaller box, “And this one actually is for you.”
“The baby’s birthstone,” Peggy holds the emerald necklace delicately between her fingers, allowing the white light from the christmas tree to bounce onto the green stone.
“And if you go into labor earlier, then I’ll just say I picked an Emerald because it looks so nice with your eyes.”
One Month Later
The neighbors have, unfortunately, noticed. Stay at home wives and mothers, as Peggy is quickly learning, are as well versed in spying as she is. It must have been Mrs. Celibee from two streets over who noticed the tiny bump situated underneath Peggy’s sweater dress, passing the news along to every other woman in a twelve mile radius. The younger women call her brave while those closer to her own age call her stupid, and suddenly, Peggy wishes she was amongst clearly oblivious men again.
“You know, Peggy, we always wondered if you and your Howie would commit to having children.” After a solid week of declining their invitations, Peggy joins the Tuesday and Thursday afternoon gin club, welcomed by an array of women she does and doesn’t know, “but to have a child at almost 60! That’s quite an achievement. Aren’t you worried you’re going to have to chase the little guy around in a wheelchair?”
Swallowing her rage with a sip of lemonade, Peggy approaches the conversation and damning questions carefully, weaving a tone that is equal parts cheery and completely sick of it. “I’m not almost 60, I’m only 48. And truthfully, my doctor has told me I have the health and vigor of someone half my age, so I really don’t think I’ll be needing any type of mobility device to wrangle a toddler. Lord knows I can keep my husband and his friends tame, and sometimes they all act like absolute infants.”
Giovanna Walluci from next door presumptively puts her hand on Peggy’s stomach, “Are you sure you’re even due in May? I was your size when I went into labor with my first son.”
“Unless, of course,” Regina Millbrook interjects, “it’s twins.”
Sliding away Giovanna’s hand not-so delicately, Peggy manages a smile, “Just one baby, I’m certain of it. The little one is just optimizing his or her time in Mummy’s tummy right now.” Though still feeling a little precocious, Peggy drops the piece of chocolate she was eating.
That evening, she recounts the whole story to Howard, who watches her with an open mouth.
“Then, of course, they all began to flaunt their ages, and some of them were born after the war. Could you imagine that? I’ll tell you what, you will not see me at any more of those viper’s dens of judgemental vitriol.”
One Month Later
Howard has left his briefcase on the kitchen table. It really shouldn’t be that big of a deal, but in Peggy’s current state, everything is a tad amplified. She debates if it’s even worth bringing it to him and revealing her condition to her subordinates. Though she doubts they will be as outwardly conniving as her neighbors she worries still about being a woman in charge.
Biting the bullet, Peggy slips on her jacket and grabs the briefcase, driving along the highways into DC thinking only of Howard’s face and not the surprised glances of others.
“Director Carter,” Sgt. O’Malley’s eyes are so obviously glued to her stomach as she approaches his desk, “I was under the impression you were on medical…”
“Howard left his briefcase at home,” She nods, ignoring his look, “if you don’t mind, I’d like to drop it off with him.”
“Yes… Yes.. mom, ma’am. Sorry.”
The looks continue as she walks around the building to Howard’s office, but they don’t seem to grate at her the same way her neighbors do. Instead, Peggy feels emboldened and proud of what she and he have finally achieved, smiling widely as her knuckles wrap on his door three times.
“Peggy,” Howard smiles, looking at her the same way he did when she first took a step down the aisle.
“You left your briefcase, I thought it would be nice to bring it in for you.”
“I was about to use my lunch break to come and get it, but now that you’re here, could I interest you in something?”
“As long as it isn’t from the mess hall here, I’d love that.”
One Month Later
She misses her feet. She misses a nice bottle of wine and some french cheese spread out on a picnic blanket on a quiet beach. She misses how close Howard used to be able to hold her late at night while they both watched television.
But there are new things she loves. She loves the way the man at the deli has taken to reserving an extra pound of deli ham for her each Tuesday. She loves each and every kick the baby makes, as they are steady signs that everything is continuing to go well. She loves, no, she adores, that Howard has begun to call Mom.
Body perched on the sofa in a way to reduce the constant pain she is in, Peggy relishes in the feeling of Howard’s hands along her stomach, and the soft trails of his fingertips wherever the baby may jut out.
“You having fun in there with your mom?”
A small kick to Peggy’s right side serves as a response, Howard’s hand immediately situating itself on the raised bump.
“We really can’t wait to meet you, you know?”
“You’re the most loved baby there ever was and ever will be,” Peggy answers, using her reclined position to kiss Howard on the crown of his head, “and we’re going to make sure you know that every day for the rest of your life.”
One Month Later
She’s probably the worst woman in the world right now. She’s leaky, cranky, and bloated, and Peggy never really finds anything to do any more but complain. The house is clean as can be and the nursery is just about finished, so it must be that lack of something to do that encourages her to take up complaining almost professionally. Howard’s noticed it, and it’s led to a small point of contention between the two of them.
“I thought this was supposed to be the happiest time of our lives,” He asks sarcastically, rubbing her feet before bed.
“Howard, I’ve gained forty pounds and immense, full body pain in the span of one year. It’s a wonderful time, yes, but I’ve earned my right to complain.”
“Hey, I’ve gained weight too, they call it sympathy pounds. Some of my shirts are a little tight around the waist now.”
She chucks a pillow at his head, mocking, “ Sympathy pounds”
“I’m starting to think you don’t want this,” Howard begins to reply bitterly, “that you hate having our baby.”
“ I do, I do! I just wish I could take a pause for a few weeks, maybe allow you to carry the bugger for a bit.”
“I’ve looked into that, Pegs. It’s not possible.”
The contempt breaks, Peggy breaking into a small and quiet “oh”.
“I’ve looked into everything, I’m a genius, remember. I think, and it’s selfish, but this is me we’re talking about, but I get so mad at you being in pain because I can’t help you.”
“You are being selfish,” Peggy answers calmly, “but I married a selfish man. A beautiful, spontaneous, caring, yet also selfish, man.”
One Month Later
The crib arrives in time for Peggy’s water to break, just three days shy of her due date. She’s no more than a mangled ball of nerves and emotions as Howard drives to the hospital, keeping her hand on her stomach in an attempt to keep the baby from coming out right then and there.
They prepare her for a surgical birth (her doctor thinks it’s best at her age) and numb her to high heavens. It feels like she’s floating on air as they lie her out on the operating table, Howard pulling the “genius, philanthropist card” to weasel in next to her.
“We’re gonna have a baby, Howard.” She slurs slightly, “did I tell you I’m expecting?”
“I did know that, yes.”
“I’m going to be a very old mother…. And you’re going to be an even older father. You’re five years older than me!”
“Age is relative,” Howard answers, kissing Peggy’s cheek, “what’s important is the love you give.”
“You sound poetic, did they drug you too?”
It’s a boy. A healthy, chubby, cherubic boy. Peggy gets to hold him first, feeling simultaneously wiped out and filled with life.
“Are you the one that’s made Mummy so hungry and cranky?”
The baby curls his head closer to her breast, blinking twice with his dark brown eyes.
“He’s perfect.” Howard says, “you’re perfect.”
“ He needs a name.” She coos, reveling in the feeling of the baby’s fingers curling around her thumb. Plenty of the babies she had met had done this gesture before, but none of them made her feel that she was eternally linked to them.
“You said you liked Sam, and I liked Avery.” Howard begins, “Because they would work either way. So are we going with Sam Avery or Avery Sam?”
“He doesn’t look like either of those options.”
“Good,” Howard laughs, ‘cause I was thinking the same thing. But what do we call him?”
Anthony Edward Stark. Howard wasn’t using his middle name that often and Peggy had been a firm believer that any partially English child should have at least one English name.
“Do you like that, little man? Anthony Edward. We can call you Tony.”
Peggy shakes her head, “God, no. Tony Stark sounds like a ridiculously pretentious name.”
Howard shrugs, picking his son up proudly for the first of many times, “I guess it’s up to him to decide. Welcome to the world, Anthony Edward Stark.”