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Sneaking around in the bushes is not exactly how he would ascribe his behavior on a pre-dawn Sunday morning, though if presented with the facts, it wouldn’t be far off.
It had taken a little time for him to get here, but now, with nearly a day to get his feet under him, finding the right place, he couldn’t wait any longer. Not this time. No longer.
No, this was specifically his plan, and for a former man-with-a-plan, he was putting off his well laid plans for nothing and no one.
Steve Rogers was willing to make sacrifices and he’d forgone all his heart’s desires over the years in order to do what was right. But if the losses of the past few years had taught him anything, even his own twisted and warped lifetime was short. It was time to leave the Captain behind and put Steve first.
The flowers admittedly were unnecessary, he knew that, but it still felt odd to show up empty-handed. Something ingrained from long, long ago, advice from his mother, that it was rude to show up empty handed.
The white porch has become familiar to Steve in the now several hours he’d spent hiding against it. Steve tried hard to be patient, to wait until an acceptable hour of the morning, one that could not be deemed inappropriate. But the sun was shining bright if only still beginning to rise, the birds busy with their morning songs, and though many human beings were fast asleep, Steve couldn’t bear to wait another minute to be reunited with Peggy.
The wooden stairs creaked with every step, loud enough he was sure would draw some attention as made his way to the door, heart pounding in his chest, until finally, finally, his fist made contact with the front door.
The change inside was perceptible only to Steve, but he knew he had gained the resident’s interest. And likely her unease. He focused hard on the professionally muffled sounds inside against the thrum of his rattling heartbeat in his ears, until finally, at long last, door ajar, there she was.
Even with bits of hastily wiped away cold cream, a familiar scent, and her hair riotously arranged in pinned coils underneath a headscarf, she is the most beautiful woman The sharp, dangerous quirk in her dark brows, the readiness in her eyes against the serious set of her unpainted lips. Familiar red varnished nails against what was also her favorite sidearm during the war.
Peggy Carter at the break of day is a glorious site to see, enough to make a man weak in his knees.
“Hello Peggy.” He holds the small bouquet of flowers he felt compelled to bring, (never arrive empty handed Steve, as was long drilled into his head by his mother) limply at the weight of the sudden wave of emotions. Joy. Pure ecstatic joy. But he can also feel his eyes welling up.
It’s been so long, the words from a future Peggy echoing in his head as he watches this one before him.
“Steve?”
He can read the warring set of thrills clear on her face. Shocked happiness and furious distrust. She said his name the way he hadn’t heard it in years. Full of respect and care.
He nods, too overcome for words even as he knows what is sure to come next.
“Yes, Peggy. It’s really me.”
Her expression hardens as her eyes gleam.
“How? Did Howard find you?”
“He doesn’t know about me. Nobody does yet. Just you.”
As he expected of the woman who comes to head SHIELD, the woman who single-handedly thwarted HYDRA from moving in from the shadows until her death, she cocks the gun at him.
“And why should I believe for one moment that you are Steve Rogers?” Even the vicious edge in her tone makes his stomach fill with butterflies.
He can’t help but continue to smile at her through wet eyes.
“Because in 1945 you listened to what we both thought were my final words. You stayed with me until the very end so that I wouldn’t be alone. Just like you promised me I wouldn’t be that night in London. And you promised to teach me to dance. I’ve never forgotten. I might have missed our date at the Stork Club, but I’m not missing another chance. Not another minute.”
Her eyes well up as her grip slackens but the gun stays fixed at him.
“In my right pocket,” he continues, tears matching hers, “if you let me reach for it, is my compass. The one I kept open on my last moments on the Valkyrie as we both sunk into the sea. I have kept you with me ever since.”
“Show me,” she orders, her voice breaking.
The portrait of Peggy has gained the expected wear over the years but it’s her, clear as day, in a dinged up military issue compass, worse for the wear.
Peggy throws her arms around him, gasping into his hear before she starts to cry in earnest.
“Steve. It’s you,” she repeats into his ear as he drops the flowers entirely and gives her the tightest embrace possible without accidental injury.
“Yes,” he swears. “I’m sorry I’m so late.” He presses a hand to the small of her back, unable to stop touching her now that she’s here, now that they are together again.
“But how? How are you here? If it wasn’t Howard, who found you? How did you get here?”
Steve, grinning, cups her cheek, thumbing the skin gently as he breathes her in.
“Well, that’s a very long story, full of things I’ll need you to keep an open mind about. And I will tell you absolutely everything you want Peggy, I promise it. But give me this moment here first.”
He presses his lips to hears, unwilling to stick to proper manners any longer. His kiss is bold, as bold as the one she had given him in a racing car in full view of their superior officer. Peggy rewards him with as enthusiastic of a reply, until he reaches his hand to the back of her nek, skirting the head scarf and bobby pins.
She cleared her throat and hastily pulled away.
“I must look a right mess,” she says, patting at her head and robe in a rare show of self-consciousness, though she seems resolute to keep her eyes fixed on him.
Steve smiles, reaching back for her brown hair.
“You look perfect Peggy. A real sight for sore eyes.”
She catches him in another embrace, tears mixing with laughter, touching every last accessible part of him, as if ensuring he was really there.
“We should head inside. My neighbors don’t tend to be up this early but I’m sure this is enough of a scene to cause some interest in the nosy ones.”
She leads him inside past a living room and into a kitchen when she puts the kettle on. He watches her hesitate, moving in one direction before retreating.
“I um…” she hesitates looking a little pink, “need to at least put my hair in order. But…”
“I can wait. I won’t move an inch.”
“It’s not that.” Peggy bit her lip. “I suppose I worry that if I leave the room you’ll disappear and this will have only happened in my dreams.”
He gives her a smile. “Please don’t change on my account. Though I’m more than happy to talk to you from outside your bathroom so you know there’s no place I’d rather be.”
She quirks her lip at him and leads him not to the bathroom but directly into the bedroom, where she sat at her vanity, able to clock him easily in the mirror as she frantically went to work freeing her curls. He watched, enraptured, saying little and falling in love with her all over again.
“I suppose you have seen me in a worse state than this before.”
He shook his head. “I never imagined I’d be in this spot, watching you taking your time getting ready in the morning with no immediate concerns of safety or enemy fire.”
“Yes, we never did have that chance before.”
After a while, hair loose and brushed, face left bare, Peggy stood to meet him again.
“You look… Older.”
“Yes.”
“Not just a four year difference.”
He hung his head. Seven decades forward then another ten years passed. Until it brought him nearly all the way back. How old did that make him really?
“Yes. That’s also true.”
Peggy reached out to touch his cheek and he let out a long sigh. Relief. To be held with care.
“I was tempted to believe you were some HYDRA creation sent to disarm me.”
“But you’ve reconsidered?”
Peggy nodded. “I’d expect a run of the mill clone. An exact replica And while I know, just know that it’s really you, you are also different. In some small ways mostly. In my experience HYDRA is not as concerned with nuance. They would have sent someone less real, who didn’t wear a look of haunted sadness so plainly.”
She gave him a sad smile. “There’s a look, one you hide well unless you think you’re alone. The last time I saw it we were breaking curfew during the Blitz”
Right after he lost his best friend.
“You have it still. Though it feels… I don’t know why this comes to mind so bear with me, but ancient.”
After a long moment in each other’s arms again, she squeezed his hand.
‘Are you… Here to stay?” It’s the first moment she’s averted her eyes.
He gently tips her chin until she’s staring into his eyes.
“Yes,” he says forcefully. “If,” he continues much softer, “you’ll have me.”
A kiss from Peggy Carter he was learning was always a gift.
“We have a lot to discuss then don’t we darling?”
“Quite a bit,” he agrees.
She nods. “It’ll keep. First, I believe you’ve made a woman wait quite long enough for a promised dance.”