Archive of Our Own

Peggy was fine. 

If you asked her, she would say she was perfectly fine. And she would smile so easily that you wouldn’t know she’d practiced it so often in the mirror that she’d forgotten what it was like to smile without effort. 

But she was fine. Perfectly fine . 

And so was her mother. 

They were fine, just fine. 

Didn’t you know Peggy received top marks in her class? Graduating high school with honors and other accolades. And that Peggy’s mother had easily and with gracious smiles just received commendations for her new neighborhood construction project? The future of the suburbs never looked so bright. 

And wasn’t that fine? Perfectly fine. 

——————

Peggy reads the check list for the fourth time as Fred circles the room. Touching objects as if it might tell him through vibrations whether he needs to consider adding it to the list of things he just couldn’t forget to take to the Scholar’s Summer Program he’s been selected for out of their entire district. 

“You’ve packed every charger and device you will need?” She asks, eyeing the two duffels, one briefcase, and small carryon bag that stands dutifully in the corner ready to be loaded up. 

“Yes.” Fred responds, “and I have my full selection of notebooks and pens that don’t smear.” He turns and looks at the room. “That’s it. I’ve got everything.” 

Peggy smiles her practiced smile. Happy she could help him achieve this level of assurity. “Of course you do.” 

He nods as if he already knows this and moves towards the door. She follows, as she’s been following him for almost a year. 

They reach the curb and his parents take over, loading the bags and giving them some semblance of privacy. 

He turns to her, kisses her on both cheeks and then the forehead, before briefly kissing her on the lips. Then he smiles and tilts his head. “I’ll see you in August.” 

“I’ll be here.” She responds quietly, “waiting for you.” 

He doesn’t smile at that, just nods, turning to slide into the back seat, where he rolls down the window. “You’ll be sure to email me if you have any issues with the job?” 

“Of course.” Her succinct reply comes, “you’ve trained me well, so I’m sure I can manage. But I’ll email if anything pops up.” 

“Of course.” He says with a serious expression, “and of course Dottie and Whitney are there to help you.” 

This makes Peggy feel a bit tight in the chest. But she manages it like she always does. “Of course.” 

“You’ll be fine.” He reiterates. 

“Perfectly fine.” Peggy responds. 

—————-

The next week passes in routine. She wakes, studies for the SAT she’s supposed to take in the fall. Walks down to the fully finished basement where she ignores the punching bag they haven’t gotten rid of, and she does her stretches, utilizing YouTube for a Pilates video and strengthening her core. Which her mother says will help her back when she’s older. 

She’s not sure why at 17 she’s concerned about her back. But better over prepared than under. Especially these days. 

Peggy does not like to be caught off guard. She’s had enough surprises to last her a lifetime. She and her mother have come to a silent agreement to ensure every aspect of their life in under control. 

Work from 9-6 for her mother. Dinner at 7 sharp and only emails allowed after that hour. 

Peggy will be working at the library, filling in for Fred in his absence, from 9-3. From which she will come home, study for her SAT’s, prepare for whatever horrible future awaits the skeletal structure of her back as she ages, and then start preparing dinner so that when her mother arrives, they can eat exactly on schedule. 

The Schedule is important. 

There’s no surprises awaiting in the schedule. 

Anything unexpected that pops up, gets immediately relegated to having been unknowingly part of the schedule all along, or pushed to another day when the schedule allows that emergency to take place. 

So when the catering company is 15 minutes late, her mother only smiles at the guests and lets them know they’ll be having the introduction first instead of the appetizers. Like it was always part of the evening to have been arranged that way. 

—————-

After the third crash from the kitchen, her mother catches her attention and smiles. 

Peggy knows that smile. 

She’s pissed and she needs Peggy to take care of it. So Peggy dutifully walks into the kitchen and stops. 

A woman, short and with dark hair tied up in a bun, is shaking her head and pointing a spatula at a girl with an expressionless face and something red dripping down her shirt. 

“Wanda, I swear, stop carrying liquids, we’ve talked about this haven't we? Please, for heaven's sake, Am I asking too much? If you drop another tray, I will cry. Do you want to see me cry?” 

The girl just sighs and goes towards the large trash bin. Dropping broken glass and wine soaked napkins into the garbage. 

“Pietro!” 

“Yeah?” 

“How are things going out there?” 

“People want more raviolis.” 

“We didn’t bring more ravioli’s.” The woman sighs in exasperation, “go out with the mini bruschettas.” 

The kid, with hair so silver-white Peggy is transfixed by it, sighs like he’s been burdened with an unachievable task and sets about grabbing little appetizers from a pan. Arranging them so quickly that Peggy wonders if she watched him in fast forward. He’s walking out the doors when the woman calls out, “and see if Steve needs anything!” 

When Pietro does not reply, the woman starts muttering to herself, only to be followed by a clear, “am I asking too much?” A young girl with hair that matches the woman’s appears and tugs on her apron. “Not now, Rebecca, mommy’s busy.” 

The girl pouts and looks about to cry. 

“Don’t.” The woman warns, “if you cry, I will cry, and then we won’t get anything done. You have your coloring and your games. Mommy needs to work.” 

The girl sighs and slinks back to somewhere Peggy can’t see. It’s finally quiet for just a moment and Peggy is about to open her mouth and make her presence known, when a fourth crash is heard and the woman freezes. “Please, no.” She sighs out, “am I asking too much to have one night go without issue?” She waves a spatula at the ceiling and then is about to step forward when Wanda and Pietro walk back into the kitchen. Pietro covered in tomatoes and balsamic and Wanda looking tired and bored. 

“What happened?” 

“Wanda turned too slow and I bumped into her.” 

“Don’t even.” Wanda says with only slight annoyance. 

“Wanda, move faster, and look where you’re going. Pietro, move slower and look where you’re going! Am I asking too much?!” 

And Peggy can already hear the nature of that statement reverberating through the room. A mantra that must be repeated so often that is probably has lost its meaning to its audience. 

“Uh—“ Peggy starts, knowing its now or never. 

The woman startles and looks towards her, as if noticing her and the doorway she appeared through for the first time.

“Oh.” The woman says, swiping away a stray hair that has come loose from her bun, “hello, and you are?” 

“I’m Peggy Carter.” She responds with practiced ease. 

Which does nothing to soften the wince the woman in front of her gives. 

“Please extend our apologies to your mother. We will be back on track in mere minutes. Won’t we crew?” 

The resounding silence makes Peggy want to laugh. Something she hasn’t felt the urge to do in a very long time. But now doesn’t seem like the time either, so she stays quiet. 

“We will.” The woman confirms on her own. “And explain to your mother that we will be forgoing the second half of her deposit this evening to compensate for our challenges.” 

That seems fair to Peggy and she’s sure her mother will say the same. She’s about to respond in the affirmative when the door opens and a head pops through. She can’t see a lot of him, just the back side of his head and part of his ear. But his hair color is deep golden. She doesn’t think she’s ever seen a more striking hair color, barring the boy with the silver hair. Silver and Gold. Maybe they're brothers, she thinks quietly as the new appearance speaks, “I’m out of cocktail napkins, where’s the box with more?” 

“In the van.” Pietro responds quickly, “I’ll get them.” 

“Stay out of the cherries!” The woman calls as the door swings shut behind him. “The drinks are doing well?” 

The boy nods, “yes, but the lady in charge keeps staring at me.” 

The woman sighs, “I know.” Her eyes flash to Peggy and then back, “the rest of the appetizers are coming out. Right now.” 

The boy says nothing as Pietro walks back in, handing a few plastic wrapped stacks of napkins to him and having decidedly red fingertips.

“Pietro!” The woman calls, “stop eating the marachinos! Please! Am I asking too much? Now get out there with a new tray, and Wanda you too.” 

The other three disappear, their assignments given and the woman finally turns back to Peggy, “my sincere apologies again. The main course will be ready on time and dessert as well.” 

Peggy smiles her practiced smile, “that’s fine.” 

She walks back out to see the guests mingling and enjoying their time. She spots her mother, walks over, informs her of the update on payment and food timing expectations. 

Her mother looks surprised and mollified in the same instant. And nods. 

Her seal of approval. The Nod. 

Everything’s fine. Perfectly fine. 

——————

The next day was not fine. 

Not that Peggy would ever admit that out loud. 

She’d arrived at the library early, wanting to start off on the right foot, only to find Dottie and Whitney already there, making her seem like she was tardy, even though she was still 15 minutes before her actual work hour began. 

“There’s not much for you to do.” Dottie assures her for the tenth time. 

Peggy just nods and turns back to her desk. Reading the email that Fred had sent just hours before. 

Peggy, 

I have arrived at camp and have settled in. The staff here are wonderful and I’ve already begun to make some connections. I will wait to hear how your first day at the library went. Make sure you file by the new system I showed you. I look forward to hearing about your first day. 

Fred 

Peggy sighs at the formality but does not begrudge him it. She had met Fred shortly after the accident and his ability to stay calm, collected, and in control had been a lifeline to the never ending chaos she had felt in her heart and mind. 

When lunch arrives, Dottie informs her that she has exactly one hour and no more. 

Peggy eats behind the library on a dilapidated old picnic bench. And it’s fine. Perfectly fine. 

——————-

Peggy would never describe herself as demoralized. 

She may feel that way. 

But she would never put it into so many words. 

Or just one. 

Humiliated. 

Dottie and Whitney have made it their personal mission to ensure that any and all “important” work is handled by them. The competent ones. 

While she is relegated to filing (that they then double check when she’s finished) and sorting through donations (which they also double check). 

Once, they were both busy with other people needing their help and Peggy had offered to show a little girl where the 3rd-4th grade reading level books were, only to be shoved to the side and relegated to restocking the bathrooms to ensure the girl was given the proper information. 

And Peggy could have fought. 

She could have. 

She used to. 

But the fight had gone out of her 17 months ago. 

So she grabs the stack of toilet paper rolls from the storage closet and heads towards the bathrooms. 

——————

She stares at the fridge, swearing she’d seen pesto sauce there. A jar she’d just opened a few days prior. 

And yet no pesto sauce could be found. 

So she grabs her keys, not allowing this hiccup to throw off her scheduled dinner. Pesto pasta with salad and bread. 

The drive to the supermarket is quiet and unimpeded. Music is no longer a part of Peggy’s life. It makes everything not fine. So it was left behind, in past Peggy’s life, along with genuine smiles, her ability to tell the truth, and her longing for something exciting to happen. 

Now she understood that exciting just meant surprising and she was done with surprises. 

So when she parks and her cell phone dings, she is unsurprised to see it’s her mother calling. 

“ The contractors canceled on me and I must find a replacement tonight. Eat dinner without me.” 

This is not surprising. It happens often enough that Peggy has a contingency plan. She usually skips an actual dinner altogether, saving the ingredients for the next night. 

Less dishes to wash and less work. She doesn’t feel hungry too often. She eats because it’s necessary and she eats plenty. Never allowing herself to even feel the slightest bit of hunger. So on nights like tonight, she will eat food that requires no preparation and no dishes. Dinner without her mother is not a surprise. 

But she decides that she will still need the pesto sauce for tomorrow. And the house was a bit too quiet for her comfort. The evening alone stretching before her endlessly. So she gets out, locks her car and walks into the store, grateful for the rush of AC that cools the sheen of sweat she has been developing this summer night. 

Her allowances of surprises is quickly put to the test when she sees the back of a boy with golden hair. Hair unmistakably so blonde that it has to be him. And he’s talking with a shorter and petite light-brunette girl in the produce aisle. 

They seem to be discussing or arguing over different heads of lettuce before the girl shakes her wrists, her bracelets jangling wildly and the blonde boy throws up his hands in defeat and grabs what looks to be heads of iceberg. 

The girl claps her hands and grabs a few more. 

And maybe it’s because she knows she knows him. Or maybe because the jingling of the girls bracelets is like a siren call, but she finds herself tracing their steps, slowly and meanderingly following behind them through the store as they grab the most random assortment of items and head for the checkout counter. 

Peggy finds herself behind them as they pay for their items. 

“I’m just saying.” The girl just says, “we need another set of hands. I’m tired of being the only girl on the team who isn’t threatening to cry or so emotionless she’s never cried in her life!” 

The blonde boy, whose back is still towards her, sighs, “Wanda’s just—“ 

“I know, Steve. I know. But still, would it kill her to show it once and awhile?” 

“You know Winnie,” the boy who now has a name says, “she says she’s looked. No one wants to take on the chaos of the job.” 

“I bet she hasn’t even asked. I could find someone.” And Peggy’s not quick enough to look away before light brown eyes meet her own dark brown ones. “Can I ask you a question?” 

“Um—“ Peggy starts, her amount of surprises doubling in the last five minutes, “okay?” 

“If chaos is bound to happen, wouldn’t you rather be a part of it from the beginning? Prepared?” 

And the question sinks through Peggy’s soul. Wouldn’t she have liked to be prepared for what she’d gone through? 

Yes. 

She would have. 

“I mean, I suppose so.” She manages out. Feeling like she’s speaking more words to a stranger than she has in over a year. 

“See!” The girl says spinning back to Steve, whose face she still hasn't really even seen, “she gets it. There’s people out there willing to do this job. Winnie just isn’t trying hard enough to find the right ones!” 

“You know she’s dealing with—“ 

“I know, I know.” The girls says, grabbing the last bag and slinging it over her bracelets. And her voice is filled with understanding, “but she’s running herself and us ragged. We need help. We need a steady pair of hands and feet that don’t move at the speed of molasses or sound.” 

“You’re telling me as if you expect me to have the answer.” 

And Peggy just barely hears the girl laugh as the doors whoosh shut behind her. 

“That will be $5.17.” The checkout attendant says with a cheery smile. 

Peggy pays, still running over the question she’d been asked. 

And she thinks that’s that. That the mystery of the girl and the mystery of Steve will be a distant memory by tomorrow. 

Only to find them standing besides her car. 

Except they’re not looking at her car, they’re looking at the car next to it. The one that now has a very flat tire.

“I thought she said she fixed this.” The girl says with an exasperated sigh. 

“She did fix it. But she didn’t go to Ralph like I suggested. She had George do it.” 

The girl groans and kicks at the flat tire. Her bracelets jingling again. “What now? If we don’t get back with this stuff she’ll lose their deposit and this client. We’re supposed to host another retirement party for them next week!” 

The boy, Steve, sets down the bags he’s holding and examines the tire, “I don’t have any supplies here. Maybe I can run to…” he cuts off, looking into the direction of the setting sun and holding a hand up to shield his eyes. 

“Steve, that’s ridiculous.” The girl responds, “you’re not running to Ralph’s, that’s at least three miles and we don’t have time for that! Can George come pick us up?” 

“He’s with Rebecca at lessons. Hence why we’re in this car to begin with.” 

“Shit.” 

And Peggy, standing there with her pesto sauce, finds herself adding a third surprise to the night. “Do you… do you guys need a ride?” 

Both turn towards her, and the girl instantly smiles, “oh hell yes!” She looks over at Steve and slaps at his upper arm, “see! It all works out!” 

“Angie, stop accepting rides from strangers.” Then he turns to face her, “no offense.” 

And that’s when she sees his face fully for the first time. Noticing two things immediately under the glow of the supermarket’s parking lot lights. 

First, he’s handsome as hell . 

And second, he’s covered in scars. 

Scars litter his face. A line following out the leftside of his mouth. Another line dragging down towards his chin on the bottom right. An ‘x’ high on his right cheek, and a curly line above his left eyebrow. Other little marks too small to describe accurately. 

They glow against the dimming sky and she’s momentarily stunned by them. So prominent on his face. 

But then she blinks and pulls herself together. Dipping her eyes to his neck instead. “None taken. But we met. You catered my mom’s event. The disaster night.” 

The girl named Angie snorts, “you’re going to have to be more specific.” 

And then Steve looks at her, and something sparks in his eyes, recognition she thinks. 

“Carter.” 

Peggy nods, “yes.” 

“Then it’s settled!” Angie crows, “we’re not strangers and she just saved our asses, let’s go!” As she reaches for the door handle, Peggy unlocks it and the girl slides into the passenger seat  unhindered by any doubts. 

Steve looks at her and gives her a wry smile, that lights up his whole face and almost takes her breath away, “thanks for this.” 

And Peggy finds herself giving almost a real smile back. “No problem.” 

—————

She drops them at a small recreation center, and Peggy can see the dark haired woman rushing towards the driveway, only to stop and tilt her head. “What happened to my car?” 

“Flat tire.” Angie says, bouncing out of her seat and swinging the bags of lettuce. Her bracelets jangle again and somehow the sound is soothing instead of jarring, “and Carter here offered us a ride.” 

“Carter?” 

Peggy dips down, allowing her face to be more visible through the passenger side window, “hello.” 

The lady’s eyes widen. “Oh my!” She looks around, “how did they wind up with you?” 

“Fate.” Angie says cheerily, “Steve was being all ‘shoulda coulda woulda’ and I told him to knock it off and then she appeared!” Angie smiles at her and Peggy feels instantly like the girl can see right through her. 

“Well.” The woman replies, “I can’t thank you enough.” 

“Where’s Pietro?” Steve asks, looking around, “and Wanda?” 

“They’re stuck at the rec center.” 

“What!” Angie cries, “I can’t serve all by myself! I told you, you have to find another server!” 

“No one will say yes!” The woman snaps back. “Steve can help serve—“ 

“No!” Angie screeches, “Steve always causes distractions!” Angie groans, “that’s why we relegated him to the bar.” 

Steve scoffs, looking offended, “I do not—“ 

“Steve—“ the woman says with a snap, “you do. So, please don’t start.” Then she turns back to Angie, “we don’t have any other options. Unless you know someone you can call and they can be here in the next 15 minutes.” The woman turns back to the center, conversation over, when Angie leans down, the setting sun creating a halo around her hair. 

“Hey, Carter?” 

Peggy feels excitement and dread in equal measure, “yes?” 

“What are your plans for this evening?” 

Go home. Do Pilates. Study. Watch something mind numbing and go to bed way too early. 

That’s what she should say. 

That’s the truth. 

But then she finds Steve looking at her curiously and she hears something else come out of her mouth. “Nothing.” 

Angie smiles, “perfect.” 

—————

The kitchen is chaos and Peggy feels her stress level rise. 

“I need platters out and mingling 10 minutes ago!” 

Steve disappears but she doesn’t have time to wonder where because Angie is dragging her around, explaining the routine and how the night’s service will go. 

“Never allow someone to grab more than two.” She commands, “people who bogart the tray are a menace. Understood?” 

Peggy nods. 

“Watch out for people who try to start a conversation with you. You don’t want to listen to Uncle Joe Schmoe explain his political views. Let them grab and then move on. Smile and nod and move on . Do you understand?” 

“I do.” 

“Good.” Peggy is handed a platter with a dozen little appetizers on it. 

“Let's get moving.” Angie winks at her and Peggy is drawn by the magnetism in her body language and it pulls her forward and out into the crowd.

—————-

“I need more skewers!” Angie calls, bursting into the kitchen. Peggy wordlessly hands her the platter she’d just finished assembling and picks up her own. 

“You’re phenomenal at this,” the woman, who she is now aware of is the one named Winnie, says to her, “if you want a job, you’ve got one.” 

Peggy doesn’t get a chance to respond because the crowd cheers and she needs to take the food out there, but the thought plants like a little seed. 

Her eyes catch on Steve at the bar.

More often than they should. 

She’s not staring, and she’s not leering. She’s observing. 

Steve moves deftly behind the makeshift bar. Mostly pouring sodas and stabbing cherries onto little umbrellas, but he also moves between patrons with ease, talking and laughing, garnering tips faster than Peggy’s ever seen all while serving every drink with ease. She studies him now, in the little moments she gets a chance. Golden blonde hair that seems naturally darker at the roots than it does at the ends create a soft but defining frame. His skin is tan and he’s clean shaven. He’s tall, and built well, but he’s lean muscle, like maybe a swimmer or something that requires the body to be lithe. And the scars are on full display. She sees another poke out from behind the collar of his shirt and she wonders what could have been the cause. 

Even though it’s clear he’s wearing a looser fitted shirt on purpose, it does nothing to keep all the women from glancing at him and hovering by the bar. 

Once, there had been no less than 7 girls at the bar all at the same time and Angie had stopped besides her with a major sigh, “see? He causes distractions.”   And then she had sauntered off with her platter, leaving Peggy to draw her own self back from being distracted. 

——————

The last dessert plate is cleared and check received when they begin loading everything back up into the catering van. 

The final cart is shoved inside and Winnie turns to the three of them. “This night went from a defcon 1 disaster to a defcon 5 and that’s because of you. So thank you.” Winnie turns to her, “Peggy, I meant what I said. You find yourself bored this summer? Call me. I’ll change that.” She hands Peggy a little business card and then disappears into the driver’s seat. 

“We’re going to a party.” Angie says with a cheery smile, “you wanna come?” 

Peggy looks at her and then Steve before looking at her phone. 

10:11pm. 

“No. I should be getting home. But thanks.”

Angie just shrugs and turns to the van, and Steve gives a soft smile before rounding the van too and also disappearing. 

Peggy walks to her car at the end of the drive and gets in. Smelling the vodka sauce and the garlic and the seasonings still infused on her clothes. 

As she drives home, she takes the long way like she has been doing for the past 17 months. Avoiding looking down the street where she knows she’ll still imagine the scene. And she continues on. 

—————-

The library only gets worse. Dottie and Whitney act like she’s an incompetent idiot, even though Fred had trained her over a period of two weeks in preperation for his absence. 

But she sits there silently and does nothing to dissuade them of their notions. 

She’s tried to buck perceptions of her before. Before everything. 

But since then, she’s just accepted who she is. 

The girl who watched her dad and brother die in a car accident. 

The girl who was trapped in the car, seatbelt unable to release for over an hour. Hearing her brother’s last labored breath. Concussed and mesmerized by the blood dripping out of her father’s mouth. 

All while the radio played on and on and on . 

Not that she told anyone those details. Not her mother, not the police. No one. Only her nightmares know about that. 

When her mother refused to cry at the funeral, Peggy had followed suit, for solidarity. Staying strong for her and everyone else. All while feeling hollow and empty. People around them cried and sobbed. And Peggy consoled them. And when people asked her how she was doing with everything, she would look at her mother, stoic and calm, and she would nod. “I’m fine.” 

————-

The next week at the library only gets exponentially worse. 

The girls openly belittle her in front of the patrons. 

And the worst part is that she just accepts it. 

She knows how to file properly. Fred taught her. She knows how to restock returns properly. But they won’t let her. She can file old index cards and send emails about books that are overdue, but they refuse her help. Relegating her to janitorial or back room chores. 

But it’s fine. 

Perfectly fine. 

——————

When an email comes through from Fred, she eagerly clicks it. 

Only to restart multiple times to ensure she’s reading correctly. 

Margaret, 

Your last email was a bit of a surprise to me. If you are having issues with your coworkers, you need to discuss and talk about it with them, not complain to me. But also… are you focused on what’s actually important at the job? Peggy, workplace strife has no place in a sanctum of knowledge. Please ensure you’re giving your all to the job at hand and not being distracted by your perceived notion of how they’re treating you. 

Fred

She’s stunned. 

She’s not sure what she expected. Fred’s never been effusive or emotional, but she had hoped for some support. He knows Dottie and Whitney, although they worship Fred, so their treatment of him would be unproblematic. But she had hoped… she sighs and clicks reply. 

Fred, 

I shouldn’t have complained. I will try to talk to them to work things out, but… I guess I just let my feelings get the better of me. I miss you so much. I hope camp is going well, I can’t wait to hear all about it. 

Love you, 

Peggy

Even after just over a year of dating they still haven’t said the three little words. But Peggy suddenly feels the desire to ensure he knows that. So she types the shorter version, and clicks send before she can chicken out. 

—————

“The salad is really good.” Her mother comments. 

“Yes, the dressing is nice.” 

Another few minutes of silence. 

“I like the crust of this flatbread.” 

“It’s a nice texture.” 

Peggy looks across at her mother. Thin and brunette, a severe face that has served her well in many a board meeting or tense discussion. Her crisp button up tucked in neatly to a pencil skirt paired with matching heels. 

She looks down at her own outfit. Perfectly put together to ensure no comment on her appearance is made. 

Her mother is big on appearances. Ensure that people on the outside know that they have their life under control. 

Because they do. Every little aspect is calculated and ensured to fit into their routine. 

———-

So when her mother’s sister comes around, unscheduled, Amanda Carter is very pinched about the mouth. 

“Amanda!” Peggy’s aunt squeals, “I haven’t seen you in too long! How are you?” She doesn’t wait for an answer, stepping past her and coming to wrap Peggy in a hug, “my Pegs!” The woman squeezes her tightly, “how are you doing?” 

“I’m fine.” She says easily, the standard reply. 

“Congratulations on graduating highschool!” 

“Thanks.” Peggy says. 

“What are you doing to celebrate?” 

“Uh..” 

“You’re doing something right?!” Her aunt, named  Audrey, turns to her mom, “you’ve done something to celebrate right?” 

Both are quiet for a second, “she’s working at the library.” Her mother says crisply, “she’s fine.” 

Peggy nods. 

“What!” Her aunt cries, “you should be out having fun! Living life, getting in some last chaos before college!” 

“We do just fine without chaos.” Her mother replies, “is there something you wanted?” 

“Just to see you guys, and let you know I got a call about the property.” 

Both her mother and her go still. That’s a discussion topic that has been off limits in the house. 

“Audrey,” her mom starts, her tone becoming detached, “we don’t need—“ 

“No.” Audrey says quickly, “I’m not asking anything of you. Just that I’m going to fix it up. Some neighbors called that it was struggling after that last storm. So I’m going to clean it up.” 

“Well that’s not necessary—“ 

“I didn’t ask, Amanda.” Her aunt says cheerily, but with an edge. “I’m doing it. We share it. And I have a right to take care of it. So I will.” 

Her mom throws up her hands and walks away to her office. Her aunt stands there for a minute before turning to Peggy, “you’re sure you’re okay?” 

Peggy nods, “oh, I’m fine.” 

Her aunt looks at her, really looks, and something in her eyes tells Peggy that she doesn’t quite believe it. But she nods and touches Peggy’s cheek before walking back out the door.

—————

She’s at the library, having just restocked the period bags in the women’s stalls when her computer rings about an email notification. 

Dottie’s head snaps to her. “No personal emails during work.” 

Peggy stares at her. This has never been an issue before. That rule was never invoked. She can’t even remember Fred saying that. 

But she looks at the pinched annoyed expressions on both of the girls’ faces and Peggy decides that once again it’s not worth the fight. “Okay.” She responds, signing out of her account. 

————-

Her drive home is quiet and after a quick rinse in the shower to get rid of the summer humidity, she pins her wet hair up in preparation for tomorrow and settles in front of her laptop. 

It takes two sentences for her to realize this email is worse than the last. 

Margaret,

I’ve taken a few days to respond to your last email. I wanted to make sure I knew exactly what I wanted to say and how it should be worded so I can be very clear. 

The last line of your email concerned me. I feel like there is a miscommunication or a misperception of how each of us view our status. I believe we have had a good relationship thus far, and am wary of pushing forward too fast as it may distract from the goals we both have. I don’t believe I can commit more time or attention to you. Not when college is on the horizon and many other aspects of my future. 

I think perhaps we should take a pause and spend the summer reevaluating what we both want and expect from each other. And then we can come together and discuss our thoughts and make a decision about whether to continue or separate permanently. 

I know you understand,

Fred

A droplet of water trails down her neck from her damp hair and she sits stunned, staring at the screen. Reading it twice more to make sure she isn’t misreading. 

— my future

Not theirs. His . 

And no, she does not understand. 

Her mind spins and she knows she’ll have nothing good to reply. 

So she doesn’t. 

She grabs her keys and shoes and she walks down the stairs and out the door. 

—————

She’s driving in silence, and the light in front of her turns yellow. 

She slows and leans her head back against the headrest. 

The car that pulls up next to her is blasting music and Peggy’s eyes turn towards the noise, only to widen in surprise as she catches sight of Angie, singing and laughing along to some top 40 song. The quiet girl, Wanda, is in the passenger seat and Peggy glances back to see Pietro bobbing his head in the back seat. 

And that’s when her eyes catch the van behind Angie’s car. Steve driving and Winnie in the passenger's seat. A dark navy blue van with crisp white lines and a white star outlined in deep red. 

B&R Catering 

The van reads in clean typography. 

The light turns green and they’re driving, not having noticed her. 

A beep from the car behind startles her, and she depresses the gas pedal, pulling forward. Her eyes still following the vehicles. 

Without much thought, she finds herself making a right, instead of a left. 

————

It’s as she slides her gear shift into park does she realize how insane this idea was. 

This was not part of the schedule. 

And yet…

Peggy watches as the group is mostly laughing and joking as they unload the vehicles, disappearing in and out of some back kitchen door. 

Steve laughs at something Angie says and Peggy’s changing her mind, about to put her car back in drive when Angie’s eyes land on her car. 

“Carter?” 

5 pairs of eyes find her and she feels frozen in place. 

“Carter!” Angie calls, “please tell me you’re here to help!” 

And just like that Angie saves her, makes it seem like Peggy’s the one doing them a favor. 

Carefully she steps out of her car and leans over the roof, “I mean, only if you need the help?” 

“Hell yes!” Angie crows, “see Winnie! There are people!” 

Winnie smiles at her and puts a hand on her hip, “well, I am so very very glad to hear that. Are you signing up to join the chaos? Or is this just a one time deal?” 

Peggy considers it for a moment. Was she about to willingly join chaos? 

She swallows and nods, “I saw the van and I… I was thinking about that job offer, and I wondered if I could take you up on that?” 

Angie’s practically beaming and Winnie smiles widely, “of course! Your steady hands and eye for plating would be an amazing addition to the team, welcome aboard!” 

And with some completely new feeling blooming her chest, she locks her car and steps towards them.  

—————-

Three platters hit the floor, and two wine glasses end up cracked in the trash. A pan of meatballs gets burnt and dessert is late by 5 minutes. 

But the man smiles as he hands Winnie a check, and tells her that he’ll be hiring her again for their next event. 

So it couldn’t have been too bad, Peggy thinks. 

All 5 of them sit quietly in the kitchen, staring at each other in silence, until Winnie walks back into the kitchen. She looks at them, “I think it was a success.”

Pietro and Angie cheer and Steve smiles with an eye-roll. Wanda just sighs and looks at her nails. 

“Peggy.” 

Peggy looks up and Winnie is walking towards her, “you get paid every two weeks. Tips given to you are yours and I let you know at least a week in advance about events.” 

She nods, “okay, and I can’t work events before 3pm.” 

Not that she wouldn’t love to quit the library. She would. Especially now, but she refuses to cower behind her broken heart. Winnie nods, “that’s fine. Since it's summer, we have more flexibility with schedules.” She looks at the group and then to Peggy, “I’d invest in some black shirts and pants.” 

Peggy nods and they start to pack up. 

“We’re going to a party—“ Angie says as she slams the vans back doors closed, “—you wanna come?” 

“I need to get home.” Peggy responds quickly, wondering if her mother is home yet. “Thanks though.” 

Angie nods and is gone, and Peggy walks quietly back to her own car. 

————-

“You were out late.” 

The confusion and accusatory tone are mingled in her mother’s non-question question. 

“Actually…” 

Fred dumped me and I felt lost so I needed to drive and I ran into those catering people who I actually worked another job for, did I tell you that? And I decided to help them again and I got another job, and I like working there. 

Is what she wants to say. To tell her mom the truth. To open up and explain how empty she feels, especially with Fred’s declaration and she wants to talk more. Discuss what happened to them. 

But her mom's skeptical and tired face makes Peggy realize that now is not the time. 

“Do you remember those people who catered your event two weeks back?” 

Her mother’s head tilts, “yes, why?” 

“Well, I ran into one of them at the grocery store, and they needed a ride because their tire was flat—“

“They asked you for a ride?” 

“No. No, I offered.” Peggy clarifies quickly, “and when I got there they seemed like they needed help and so I asked if I could help out and then she offered me a job and…” Peggy looks down at her hands and then up at her mom, “I took it.” 

A silence. Her mom’s face calculating her response. 

So Peggy makes sure that this doesn’t disrupt the schedule. “I already told her it can’t interfere with my job at the library. And it’s not often enough to interfere with my studies for the SAT.” 

Her mother’s lips purse and then she blinks and Peggy can see her relegate it to the Schedule. 

“Fine. Dinner is in the fridge.” 

“I ate at the event, but thank you.” 

Her mother raises an eyebrow, but then her office phone rings and she shakes her head before walking back into her office. 

So much for only emails after 7. 

—————

The next day at the library is positively miserable. 

“Oh…” Dottie says with a smirk, “I’m surprised you came today.” 

“Why?” 

“Because of you and Fred…” 

She pauses, mind whirling, how in the hell did they already know that? Had he informed them?

“It’s just a break.” Peggy reiterates, something she’s been telling herself all night, “and that doesn’t affect my ability to work.” 

They both just stare at her like she’s insane. 

Which at the moment may not be far off. 

—————-

The second the hand strikes three she’s out the door and walking towards the parking lot. 

She’s reaching for her keys when her phone rings.

“ Remember how I said I would give you at least a week’s notice of events?”  

It’s Winnie. And she already sounds frantic. 

“Uh, yeah?” 

“ Well, I’m a liar, and things are not looking good for me today. Would you be available? It’s after three, right? I called after three?” 

Peggy nods, “yes it’s after three and sure, I can help. How?” 

“ Come to this address,” she rattles one off, “ you’re a blessing.” 

And the line goes dead before Peggy can even respond. 

—————

The car crawls along a dirt road and searches for the two mailboxes that Winnie had described. One red, one blue, and both with white stars. 

Finally they come into view and Peggy hangs a left, her suspension squeaking at the bumpiness. 

Suddenly the sun shines off something metal and catches her eye. She gapes at it. A giant metal sculpture, an angel, with its wings outstretched and made of stained glass. The colors make the road sparkle like a muted rainbow. 

She slows down, staring at it in awe, eyes wide at the amazing detail and use of movement to create a magnificent illusion of floating. 

Thump .

The car lurches to a halt and she whips forward. Squealing at the sudden dip causing her car to stop. 

“Oh no—“ she says. “Please, no—“

She opens her door slowly, walking around the front to see her right tire hanging into a gaping pothole. 

She’s about to pull out her cell phone to call Winnie when she hears a loud cry. “Oh no!” She turns around, seeing Winnie standing on a white porch holding a spatula and looking distraught, “I forgot to tell you about the hole!” Peggy sighs. “Hold on.” 

Winnie runs back inside and Peggy leans against her car, the sun still high in the sky and making the air feel like a sauna with the humidity. 

Then an old truck looking thing pulls into the road from the other house and slowly approaches her. The sun reflects off the windshield, but as it turns, so it can back up to tow her out, she sees Steve. 

He parks and gets out, a t-shirt and jeans clinging to him in the heat. “Just take a sec—“ he says, bending down and hooking something to her bumper.

He motions for her to get in the driver's seat and turn her wheel a certain way, then he gets in his own truck and gives her a signal to hit the gas. 

Soon her car is unstuck and she drives it very carefully to the left to ensure her back tires avoid the same fate. 

“Thanks.” She says, once they’ve both parked and Steve’s looking at her, “for getting me out.” 

He smiles at her, an easy and calm smile accompanied by a shrug, “maybe you can convince Winnie to get that thing filled. That can be your thanks.” Confusions must cross her face because Steve chuckles, “Winnie believes that some things just are. The pothole for example. And the fact that we won’t ever get a new grocery store or that our minor league team always loses when we play against Georgia. Some things just are.” 

She’s not sure how to respond, but he just smiles and waves, disappearing into the smaller of the two houses. 

“You’re saved!” Winnie cries, back out on the porch. “I’m glad Steve was back. Anyways come on in Angie should be here soon.” 

Her curiosity gets the better of her, “what did Steve come back from?” 

Winnie leads her to a door which leads to a converted garage. An industrial style kitchen inside. “Oh he was meeting with Natasha.” 

Natasha? 

Her heart clenches at the thought of Steve having a girlfriend. But of course he would. Someone as kind and handsome as Steve. 

Not that it matters. She has Fred. 

Kind of. 

“Now—“ 

Winnie starts explaining everything and Peggy rolls up her sleeves and gets to work. 

—————

Angie arrives not too much later and the atmosphere becomes that much more lively with her presence. Peggy is in awe at how she just exudes energy. 

“Now, Carter—“ Angie is saying, “tell me what you look for in a guy?” 

She looks up from the little triangular dinner roll dough that she’s rolling into a crescent shape, “what?” 

“Do you have a boyfriend?” 

“Um—“ she starts, suddenly feeling on uneven ground, “yeah, I do, but—“ she pauses, “we’re on a break for the summer though. Time apart to reevaluate and all that.” 

Angie looks at her with narrowed eyes but Winnie clucks approvingly from the other side of the kitchen, “sounds smart, always good to take your time rather than rush into things.” 

Angie just raises an eyebrow and she shrugs, going back to her task. 

—————-

They slide the last pans into the huge double ovens and then the desserts into the storing fridges and Winnie looks around. “You two have just saved me. Thank you so much.” 

“I never asked,” Angie says wiping her wet hands with a towel, “what happened to Wanda and Pietro?” 

“They’re doing more at the community center and I just really don’t want to dissuade them from that you know?” 

Angie nods, but Peggy doesn’t know, not that she feels it’s her place to ask. 

“I can’t believe June is almost over.” Angie sighs, “I don’t even know how that happened.” 

“Right.” Winnie agrees, placing some dishes into the large metal sinks, “oh!” She turns to Angie pointing a finger, “don’t let me forget the fourth. Every year something comes up, but I swear this time I will not forget. Remind me, okay?” 

Angie laughs, “sure Winnie, I will.” 

A door opens and the younger girl that Peggy saw that very first night pokes her head out, “mama? Daddy says dinner is getting cold.” 

“Right, right, right.” Winnie nods, “okay, thank you ladies! And Peggy—“ she turns to face her, “if you want to work tomorrow night on short notice, you’re welcome too.” 

Peggy nods, “yeah, sure, I’ll be there.” 

“Great! I’ll text you the address. Watch the pothole!”

She gone in a cloud of flour and Angie walks her out to her car, “you got stuck?” 

“Mhmm.” 

“Did Steve pull you out?” 

“Yeah.” 

“He’s always hauling people out of that damn hole.” She pulls out bracelets and bangles from her purse, slipping them on, “I’m heading to a friends, they’re hanging out tonight at the dock, you wanna come?” 

It’s only 7… she could probably go for a bit… but then she shakes her head, “no. Thanks though.” 

“Alright, see ya tomorrow.” Angie waves heading to her own car and Peggy walks towards hers, only to hear tinkling and jangling. She pauses, turning towards the noise and seeing a huge garden that was hiding behind the fence. 

“Whoa…” she breathes out, stepping towards it. Huge sunflowers and overgrown plants make the square plot seem like a jungle. But what catches her eye is the metal angel in the middle. Wings out of stained glass, raised in flight, and metal sheets cut and curved and arranged to look like flowing hair, painted varying shades of gold making the angel glow in the dimming sunset. 

It’s gorgeous and she stares at it for sometime until the jangling startles her again. She looks up to see the wind rustling a chime on the porch. Her eyes catch on the window where she can see Steve at the kitchen sink. She backs away quickly and runs to her car. 

—————

“Are you trying to make me cry!” Winnie frets, waving a spatula at Pietro, “stop eating the cherries! Geez, am I asking too much?!” 

“We’ve got plenty,” Pietro mopes. 

“Dude,” Steve says with a playful pat on Pietro’s head, “stop eating them, she’s asked you a bunch of times, okay?” 

Pietro turns to Winnie, “sorry.” He grabs a tray and is gone. 

Winnie shakes her head, “I’ll never get over the change. He’s growing up so fast.” 

“Don’t even.” Wanda says quietly from her corner where she’s been relegated to placing forks into little holders made out of napkins after she dropped soda on the white carpet. This seems to be Wanda’s go to phrase. That and, “whatever,” or “you said it.” 

Peggy’s not sure why she speaks so little, or walks so slowly, or seems so one level all the time, but she’s a calming presence and Peggy’s grown accustomed to her easy going nature. 

“Yes, I know you’re twins.” Winnie huffs, “but you’ve always been mature for your age. Pietro took longer.” 

Wanda shrugs and goes back to her task as Angie walks in. “The little toast thingies are popular, more needed.” 

Peggy hands her a fully stocked tray and then grabs her own. “Let’s go.” 

———-

A shrill laugh makes both her and Angie turn towards the bar, where a woman much too old to be so flirtatious is practically pawing at Steve. 

Angie snorts in humor as Steve smiles and easily shifts his focus to his next customer. “Such a waste.” Angie sighs, “good looks on someone who doesn’t want them.” 

Peggy nods as a person takes a little cup of veggies and dip off her platter, “what do you mean?” 

“Come on—“ Angie rolls her eyes, “I mean, you didn’t Sah-Wwooon when you saw Steve but you did a mini swoon.” 

She freezes, “excuse me?” 

They pause as people approach them and take food. Then, once they’re just drifting along the edges of the crowd, Angie nudges her with her elbow, “come on. Steve is swoon worthy, and he always makes all the girls “ Sah-Wwooon’ ,” she puts a hand to her forehead as if she might faint. “I saw it under those parking lights. You’re not immune.” 

“I mean,” she feels so exposed, “yes, he’s handsome.” 

The laugh of amusement that comes out of Angie’s mouth turns heads. “Handsome and kind and so sweet—“ Angie lists off, holding the platter out to a older woman in a chair. 

“Did you guys date?” Peggy asks, wondering if she knows those qualities from experience. 

“Me?” Angie shakes her head, “no, I mean, of course I had the biggest crush on him as a middle-schooler when he first moved here, and that was back when he—“ Angie stops herself, tilting her head and then shaking her head, “well, he didn’t look like this then, and I swore we would end up married, but then one day I realized that Steve’s like my brother and that made me realize we weren’t meant to be.” She laughs and her bracelets jingle, “anyways. Now I’m on the search for a boy who will be the greatest boyfriend of all time. There’s a party tonight where there are supposed to be some new college guys, I’m going to scout them out.” 

Peggy laughs, “you’re insane.” 

“Well, we can’t all have sort of on a break boyfriends.” 

Peggy’s stomach flips. “Yeah well.” She tries to sound calm, “who knows.” 

“Winnie wants the main course out soon.” Pietro says, appearing in front of them out of nowhere, “lets go.” Then he’s gone again back towards the kitchen. 

Angie sighs, “I swear that boy teleports.” 

“How old is he?” Peggy asks. 

“He and Wanda are both 16 about to be 17 and about to be seniors in high school.” 

“Older than I thought.” 

Angie studies Pietro as he waves them forward, “maybe it’s his hair.” She laughs at her own joke and Peggy laughs with her. 

————-

“You wanna come?” 

Peggy’s surprised. She’s turned down Angie’s offer for every party or hangout, and still she invites her along. 

“Sure.” Peggy hears herself say, surprising herself, “sure.” 

Angie wiggles as if she knew one day Peggy would give in, “great, let’s go.” 

————

It’s a house on the beach that they stop at, music already playing loudly from the doors and open windows. 

“Come on.” Angie squeals, “let's go see what these boys are all about!” 

“I’m not here—“ Peggy starts, suddenly feeling panicked.

“I know.” Angie huffs, “but I want your opinion.” 

Angie grabs her by the hand and drags her up the front porch. 

—————

A couple people try to offer her red cups of foul smelling drink, but she declines and grabs a soda instead. Angie drags her from room to room and then eventually finds a guy worth talking to, so Peggy steps back and out onto the back porch. 

Her eyes catch on a kid or two she might recognize from her school, but mostly strangers. Wanda walks past her, and Peggy waves. A blink is all she receives but that seems perfectly normal. She spots Pietro playing ping pong rather wildly on a rickety table on the sand. And then her eyes stop on him. 

He leans against the back of an open tailgate and is laughing. Head tipped back in mirth as a guy next to him, smooth dark skin and a gapped tooth smile, is saying something. 

The firelight makes the scars dance as his face shifts in laughter. 

“Sah-woon.” 

She doesn’t have to look up to see Angie’s grin. 

“No.” Peggy reiterates. “I’m not.” 

“Well, I’d get it if you did.” 

“But I’m not.” 

“Okay.” The girl plops down on the steps beside her and nudges her with her shoulder. “I’m not trying to annoy you.” 

“I know.” Peggy says, and she does know. “Find any suitors worth your time?” 

Angie wrinkles her nose, “as Wanda would say, ‘don’t even’.” 

“Yikes, that bad?” Angie looks over to Steve and Peggy watches as her eyes cast over the guy he’s talking to. “Who is that?” 

Angie sighs, “that’s Sam. He’s the cutest.” 

“And he’s not a worthy suitor?” 

“I don’t even think he knows I exist.” 

Peggy blinks. Her mind rejecting the idea that people don’t know Angie exists. Angie is the definition of existing. Vibrant and kind and effusive. He must know about her. 

But Angie is sighing like it’s the truth and Peggy wonders how people can view themselves so incorrectly. “Why don’t you go introduce yourself?” 

Angie eyes her, “hmm. Maybe I will.” 

Peggy shrugs, “okay then. Do it.” 

Angie stands, brushing off dust and then walks over to the two. Peggy watches to see if Steve will react negatively to her appearance but he seems to take it in stride, introducing the two and then laughing when Sam makes some joke that Peggy can’t hear. She turns back, facing the fire and wondering why she came to a party when she barely has the willpower to talk to others on a daily basis. 

“This seat taken?” 

She looks up to see Steve, hands in his pockets and an eyebrow raised in question. 

She shakes her head and he settles down, “I take it Angie successfully introduced herself?” 

Steve chuckles, “I’d say.” He glances over to where they’re still talking. Angie leaning towards him and Sam has a grin on his face. “Sam’s good people. Angie deserves someone nice.” 

And even though it’s an innocuous comment, said with ease, Peggy suddenly feels herself let into some inner circle. As if she and Steve and the other members of the catering team are responsible for ensuring Angie took care with who she chose to date. Like she might have a say if she for some reason decided she disagreed with Steve’s assessment of Sam. 

“That’s good.” Peggy says softly back, “she does.” 

“So what brings you to this party?” She looks at him and he shrugs, “you usually say no.” 

“Not much of a party person…” 

“Me either.” He says easily, with the ghost of a grin on his face. 

“And yet here we are.” She responds, feeling like the same smile might be forming on her own lips. 

He nods, a soft humorous huff escaping him, “here we are.” 

————-

“I’m sure we can help you find what you’re looking for.” 

Peggy feels the comment on the tip of her tongue. The one that wants to bite and snap at these girls who constantly demean her. 

But Whitney’s smug eyebrow raise and Dottie’s quick eye roll in her direction, make her stay silent. 

————

“And you’re sure you’re not falling behind on your studying?” 

Peggy wants to grit her teeth. She’s already taken the SAT, and truthfully she doesn’t need to take it again. But Fred had insisted she could get a better score. She’s about to say it’s fine when the house phone rings. 

“Hello?” Her mom asks. 

“Manda, hi, it’s Audrey, I’m calling to update you on the property!” Her mom stiffens and so does she. “ The roof has been replaced and the carpets either have been replaced or cleaned! Also, there’s a few items here I need to bring by that I think—“ 

“Audrey, I can’t right now. We will talk next week. Okay?” 

Peggy watches as her mother barely lets her sister respond before she’s hanging up. 

And maybe that’s fine, because her mom is no longer paying attention to her, rubbing at her temples and muttering to herself before walking to her office. 

The property. 

Amanda and Audrey were born and raised in Hampstead, England. Where their parents lived happily until their father got a promotion to go overseas and start a section of his construction company in America. The sisters moved from state to state as their father built homes and businesses with pride. 

And then her mother met her father. Harrison Carter was a contractor. And he was young and handsome and from England. Which instantly made Amanda Carter pay closer attention as she worked and helped her father in his business dealings. 

Well he noticed her too. And they struck up a romance that led to a happy marriage and a bouncing baby boy. Followed a few years later by Peggy. They moved from DC to the outer banks of North Carolina where Amanda and Harrison started their own small branch of her father’s company, but this time focusing on just residential homes. And Amanda and Audrey (now also married) decided to go in together on a beach house. To share and vacation there together. But Harrison Carter was the caretaker of the property. He was the one who loved it, and fixed it and made it the special place to be. 

Her parents lived and worked together for many years, building up awards and accolades on their style and structures and reliability in the housing sector. And they were about to break ground on the new development. 

But then Peggy Carter begged her father to take her to the gas station. No one but the Looper’s Gas & Go had the specific Icee flavor and the horrible plastic cheese nachos that had become her recent obsession. With all her school activities and hand to hand combat lessons and events she was always hungry. 

Her father had sighed and tried to convince her that there was food at hom e. 

But she couldn’t be persuaded. So Michael had excitedly offered to drive her, since he’d barely just gotten his license past its provisional status. But their father had rolled his eyes and shook his head and fondly caved. 

So they’d grabbed their shoes and gotten into the car and drove just a few miles when a mother and baby deer had decided to run across the road. 

And it’s funny because Peggy can clearly remember her father telling Michael, as he took him out to practice driving just weeks before, that it’s almost always better to hit an animal than to swerve around one. Because the car can take the impact better than if they lose control. 

But Peggy supposes it’s easier said than put into practice. Or more difficult in the face of two very scared pairs of eyes caught in the headlights. Because her father gasped and yanked the wheel to the left, swerving so wildly that their car lost traction and it tilted, so he attempted to yank it the other way but it only caused the car to over-correct. So it flipped, and slid for forever, it felt like. Peggy remembers the sound of scraping metal against asphalt forever. Then the car slid off the road and into a telephone pole. 

That’s the moment she remembered the most. The front of the car suddenly seeming so much closer to her in the back seat. 

And the music refused to quiet. The radio continuing on as if her world hadn’t just ended. 

And her father never really spoke, only his hand reaching over to try to tap at Michael. Who was pale and his hair hanging off his scalp as they all were held in place by their seatbelts. 

Flashing lights and voices seemed to haunt them as they hung there. Music still playing and her brother’s breathing getting more labored. 

Her mother had held her hand as they loaded her up into the ambulance. It was the only time Peggy can remember her mother actually crying. 

————-

The party is simmering down and Peggy is walking out to her car when she hears voices in an open window. 

“That girl—“ a voice speaks, “the one you were talking to—“ 

And Steve’s voice is what she hears next, making her pause, “yeah?” 

“You recognize her?” 

She winces, knowing what’s coming next. What always comes when people figure out just who she is. The looks and the pity and the sympathetic head tilt because no one ever knows what to say. 

“What do you mean?” 

“That’s Peggy Carter right?” 

Steve’s voice is quiet, “yeah.” 

“Her dad—“ Peggy sucks in a sharp breath, “he was the guy at the rec center, remember? When we were little. He taught all those self-defense classes. Me and Bucky took some.” 

Steve’s voice lightens, “oh yeah, I remember that.” 

“Yeah, cool guy.” 

Peggy’s heart feels tight as she steps away and down towards the driveway. 

————-

Her mind replays that moment over and over all night. The moment she thought was going to be it. When suddenly she’d relegated to being the tragic sad story girl again. 

But instead she is reminded that she had a life before the accident. That her dad isn’t just the dad who died. But the man who built homes. Taught classes. Got involved in the community and lived . 

Her window pane spreads the moonlight through her room and she feels a sense of change shift in her chest. 

—————

“I swear it’s like we’re invisible.” 

Peggy nods, her eyes finding Angie as she passes by but her ears still listening to the insanely private affair story that’s being spoken about directly in front of her as if she didn’t exist. The two women grab hor'dourves and she slowly walks away. 

————-

“So, how’s Sam?” 

Angie sighs, “he’s off with his family on vacation for like a month.” She pouts, “and we didn’t even get the chance to talk much or anything before he left.” 

“But he knows you’re interested?” 

Angie pouts again, “no. I mean… maybe. I didn’t tell him. But I think he could tell.” She looks at Peggy and her eyes are worried, “what if he finds some girl on vacation?” 

Peggy laughs softly, feeling surprised at how easy the ability returned. She hadn’t even thought about laughing. She just had. “I think if he moves that quickly from girl to girl then you wouldn’t want him anyways. Correct?” 

A second of consideration is all Angie gives before throwing her hands up and leaning against the porch railing. The sounds of the party going on around them. “I suppose. Ugh.” 

“Well, you could continue your search, unless you’re set on Sam?” 

Angie’s eyes trail around to the people milling about. “I suppose I could do my own searching.” 

“It’s summer.” Peggy says idly, her own eyes trailing the crowd, “live it up.” Angie snorts and Peggy looks up. “What?” 

“Interesting advice coming from you.” 

Peggy bristles, “what’s that supposed to mean?” 

And instead of teasing or haughty or any other sort of pushy emotion. Angie’s face shifts to kind, “I just think you could do a bit more ‘living’ yourself.”

“I’m fi—“ 

“Fine.” Angie says cutting her off. “Right. Of course.” 

The silence stretches wide. And suddenly Peggy’s earlier suspicion that Angie could see straight through her was confirmed. Making Peggy feel laid bare. Vulnerable. “I should go.” Peggy says quickly, standing, “I’ll see you at the event on Thursday.” 

“Peggy, I—“ 

“Bye.” She says, cutting Angie off and practically bolting off the porch. 

————-

The girls at the library basically stop speaking to her in general. Only ordering her around and ensuring she’s doing everything correctly. Other than that the library is in total silence. 

————-

Peggy watches the stack of magazines with post it notes in them. And she knows her aunt was here. Her mother is shut up in her office and Peggy trudges down to the basement. Her eye catches on the punching bag. She slowly drags her hand along the vinyl covering and it makes her shiver. So she runs back up the stairs and to her room, where she grabs her SAT book and stares at it. 

————-

Peggy almost chickens out of the next event. But Winnie had called her frantically about a change of start time and that option flew out the window. So Peggy puts on her black leggings and black button up, ties up her hair and grabs her keys. 

————

“Wanda, move, now!” 

The girl just rolls her eyes and walks out the door, a tray in her hands. Pietro zips in, switching out platters and grabbing a stack of napkins, “they want more satay.” 

“We don’t have more satay!” Winnie snaps, “they said they only wanted 4 trays! I have the cheese—“ 

“They said the satay—“ 

“Then I need them to have ordered more!” She sighs, mixing the salad with a long pair of tongs, “am I asking too much? Geez. ” 

Pietro just huffs and takes the tray Peggy hands him. 

Angie walks back in and takes the new tray. “How are you so good at plating these. I have people complimenting how the tray looks.” 

“She’s a miracle worker.” Winnie responds without glancing up. “Where were you 2 months ago at the Zubritski event.” 

Angie guffaws and then nods, “the only time I saw Wanda move faster than a snail.” 

“And Pietro was hiding in the closet. That never happens.” Winnie says with a laugh. 

“That was the last night Steve served, right?” 

Winnie puts a hand to her forehead, “don’t remind me! Oh, Sarah would have had those women’s necks!” 

Angie’s nodding and laughing and Peggy feels very lost. “What happened?” She asks. 

“Oh, this older ladies group, one of the women was getting remarried, to her 7th husband mind you—“ Winnie starts, carefully dishing out the salad, “and they hired us for her bachelorette party.” Angie snorts and Winnie sighs, “and they were very very inebriated and very quickly. And one of them made a comment to Pietro and he ran back to the kitchen so fast.” Angie frowns and Winnie just rolls her eyes in disbelief, continuing, “and so we put Steve out on the floor because he’s older, but then they practically started to grope him, and so we had to bring Steve back to the kitchen.” She rolls her eyes, “those women were relentless.” 

“Pietro didn’t even make it a single tray.” Angie remembers, “They made one comment to him and he was gone .” 

“As he should be.” Winnie says firmly, “they were being so inappropriate. Bless Steve for lasting as long as he did.” 

“I forget, was it the lady who grabbed his butt or the woman who tried to unbutton his shirt that—“ 

Winnie slams the tongs down, “what! Someone tried to unbutton his shirt??”

But Peggy and Winnie look at Angie who winces, “oops. Did he not tell you that?” 

Her teeth are clenched tight, “no…” 

Angie’s suddenly backing out with her tray, “don’t tell him I told you—“ then the door is swinging shut. 

Peggy’s eyes slowly trail back to Winnie who is pinching the bridge of her nose, balsamic dressing dripping down her wrist. 

Peggy studies her features. And she’s almost certain that Winnie and Steve aren’t related. But the woman obviously cares for Steve like a son. Peggy just doesn’t know why. 

———-

“Come on—“ Angie pleads, “I need your advice, you’re good at judging people’s characters. Please come, there’s going to be lots of boys there andI need help—“ 

Wanda and Pietro are already sitting in Steve’s bronco, the dark blue paint looking faded but well taken care of. The white top reflects the street lamp. 

Peggy looks over at Steve, who is talking to Winnie, but Angie tugs on her hand, “I’ll let you ride in the front seat!” 

She freezes, “what? Why would that matter?” 

Angie grins at her, “I’m sure it doesn’t. Just saying—“ she winks at Peggy and then flicks her eyes to Steve. And suddenly Peggy gets it. 

Angie thinks she wants to sit next to Steve. 

Not because she was sitting in the back seat in the accident. 

“Oh.” Peggy feels her breath slowly return, “right.” 

“Perfect!”  Angie squeals, hopping in the back seat and shoving Wanda over. 

Peggy turns to the car. She hadn’t actually agreed, but now Angie’s crammed in the back seat, trying to fix Wanda’s eyeliner while Wanda seats at her hand and Pietro is hopping his head and humming along to the radio and it would be more awkward for her not to get into the front seat. 

So she slowly clicks open the door and gets into the car. The worn leather seats are comfortable and she catches Angie’s eyes in the rear view. 

“I wish Natasha was coming.” Pietro says over the sound of the radio announcer. “She’s been a ghost recently.” 

“You know she’s focusing on her college credits.” Angie says amicably, “those summer night classes are brutal she says.” 

“But Steve’s taking those classes and he still hangs out.” Pietro pouts. 

Peggy blinks down at her hands. Oh yeah. Steve and… Natasha… whoever that is. 

“Yes, but Steve’s Steve.” Angie says as if that answers the question. 

And since Pietro doesn’t contradict her… Peggy guesses that it does. 

—————

This party, out on some public beach park, is much heavier attended than the last one. 

The drive over had been mostly the back seat talking. Steve had smiled at her but kept quiet, and Peggy had followed suit. 

But now she sat, a cup of something she had no intention of drinking in her hand. And people laughing and talking around her. Angie was flirting with someone Peggy remembers seeing at some school event. And the thought makes her stomach curl. If students from her school were here… that makes this dangerous. 

Wanda settles next to her. Sipping on a dripping coke can. 

“Having fun?” Peggy asks. 

Wanda just shrugs. So Peggy shrugs back. Pietro is nowhere to be seen, but she knows he’s around. 

Steve is standing by another group of guys, all of them around his age or older. And they’re all listening as he says something. Which Peggy can’t seem to take her eyes off of. 

“Ugh.” Angie says, dropping at her other side, “these boys are not wonderful . Where are the good guys! The smart guys?” She pouts, “I need to find a smart guy. Then I—“ 

“No.” Peggy says in a hurry. “You don’t.” 

“Why not?” Angie flings her arms to the sky. 

“I just know.” Not really wanting to explain why being second priority is not appealing. “My boyfriends like that. Or sort of boyfriend.”

“Right, right.” Angie sighs, “the sort of boyfriend. Those suck. It’s like, ‘are we aren’t we? You know?” 

Then Peggy winces, “we’ll, it’s not like that really. We’re on a break.” 

“Because?” 

She really doesn’t want to go into this. Her shame is causing her chest to heat, but she looks at Angie’s genuinely concerned and curious face and she takes a deep breath, “a break because we weren’t on the same wavelength.He felt we needed to re-evaluate what we were doing and then contact each other at the end of the summer.” 

“That’s why you didn’t react to Steve right? Like you were taken when we first met. So you weren’t looking. That’s why it was a Swoon and not a sah-woon.” 

“ Not this again.” 

Wanda heaves a sigh and Peggy eyes her. “You have a crush on him as well?” 

Wanda shrugs, and Angie laughs. “We both did years ago. Then he went away to Prier’s and got even more handsome. But still—“ she wrinkles her nose. “Too much like a brother.” 

Peggy’s eyes slide to Steve, “Prier’s?” 

“Yeah it’s a detention center—“ 

“I know.” Peggy says. Fred had tutored there. But she’s known Steve for over a month now. She can’t imagine what he could have done to get sent there. 

“So.” Angie cuts into her train of thought, “tell me about ‘on a break boy’.” 

“We’ve been together for over a year.” 

They both wait, expecting her to continue. So she rolls her eyes and continues, her fingers gripping her cup. “While he was away, he decided we should take a break. Like I said.” 

“So he found some other girl.” Angie says flatly. 

“No—“ Peggy laughs. As that thought is comical. Fred? Never. “No it’s not like that.” 

“Like what?” 

“He’s at a super elite academic summer program.” 

“And there’s no girls there?” 

“No, I—“ she huffs, “I’m sure there are but that’s not the reason were taking a break.” 

“So what is the reason.” She presses. 

“Just… things.” 

“Carter.” 

And here it is. The thing she hasn’t told anyone. Not even her mother. “I told him I loved him and he thought we were moving to fast. And that we were going to get distracted from our goals.” 

“Don’t even.” Wanda says flatly. 

And Angie is staring at her in shock, “excuse me? You’re dating for over a year and you saying “I love you” is too much?” 

“It was over email.” Peggy says slowly, trying to remain collected, “not the best place to say it.” 

“And what are his goals? Dying in a grave full of books?” She’s so offended for Peggy that it makes something warm grow in Peggy’s chest. 

“It’s complicated.” She says softly, “he’s very passionate about his future.” 

“Whether it includes you or not?” 

And that question slices deep. “He’s been good to me.” She states, “he helped me through a lot.” 

And Angie goes quiet for a moment, but then she shakes her head, “you deserve someone who wants to bring you along to their future. Not see if you fit in it.” 

“Hey—“ a slightly slurred voice says. “Hey you’re Carter, right?” 

She looks up, and a familiar face stares at her. Eyes glazed with alcohol and a goofy smile on her face. 

“Uh—“ she swallows, “yeah.” 

“Shit, I knew I recognized you!” The girl plops down onto the sand in front of her and places a too warm hand on her knee. “Damn, where you been, huh?” 

Peggy sits a bit straighter, already feeling like she needs to get out of here. But Wanda’s looking at her curiously and Peggy feels a hand on her shoulder. “You know Peggy here?” 

Angie, at her side. A hand comforting on her shoulder. 

“Hell yeah.” The girl says, “I’m Lorraine. We used to fight together.” 

Peggy’s mind reels, a memory of a short blonde girl and her trading a flurry of little fists and kicks. Peggy can see few people paying attention. Some are moving closer, while the air is leaving her lungs. 

“What?” Angie asks, sitting next to Peggy, “fight?” 

The girl is bobbing her head wildly and sloshing her drink, “oh yeah,” she taps Peggy’s leg, “Carter here and I went toe to toe in all the mixed martial arts championships for our age range. Hell, the only reason I started winning is cuz she quit—“ the girl hiccups and then laughs, “man you shoulda seen her fight. Like watching a dragon dance.” The girl laughs and Peggy feels like everything’s too warm and she needs air. Talking about  Fred and her brother and dad all in one go is too much. “I don’t know why people think you’re weird since your family.” The girl says, suddenly shifting to as serious of a face as she can make while under the influence, “hell of course you’d be weird—“ the girl hiccups again, “I would be too after watching my dad and brother die.” Lorraine leans her head back to the sky, closing her eyes to the breeze, “Damn, I wish you’d fight again. I’d like to have a second chance at kicking your ass. Not that I ever could.” The grin of the girl seems like a knife after she just laid Peggy’s story bare. 

“Lorraine, lets go!” 

“Oh shit,” the blonde girl hisses, standing up and swaying, “you ever fight again you let me know okay? You could take your dad’s place at the center, huh? ‘Member that. Huh? ‘Member what I said.” Then the girl smiles and stumbles away. 

And there it is. 

It’s quiet for a moment. 

“Steve isn’t that girl that pounced on you last year?” Angie asks, her voice filled with amusement. Peggy looks up to see Steve standing there, looking at her. And she expects to see the pity. The misplaced or oppressive sympathy. But he’s just looking at her softly. Something like a calm understanding on his face. “Steve?” 

“Yeah.” He answers, his eyes not leaving her face. 

Angie nods, accepting his answer and then nudging Peggy’s shoulder, “that girl is a couple fries short of a happy meal, huh?” 

Peggy looks at her, but Angie’s already poking at Wanda, making some joke about her smudged eyeliner. And they seem normal. Like nothing had changed. Like Peggy’s entire tragedy hadn’t just been laid bare. Like she was still just a normal part of the group. 

“Wanda, come on, you know I’m right!!” Angie leaps up pestering the girl who rolls her eyes and keeps walking away. 

“Those two never stop bickering.” 

She feels Steve settle beside her and her heart picks up the pace. “I’ve never heard Wanda string together more than 5 words.” She responds quietly. 

Steve shrugs, “you learn her body language and blinks.” He laughs softly at his joke, and a new scar presents itself. A thick line along his collar bone hiding beneath his collar. 

“Sorry about your dad.” He says simply. Not imbuing it with meaning or sadness. Just a genuine statement. 

“Yeah.” She responds softly. 

“I knew him.” He adds, leaning back on the creaky beach chair, “I mean, me and one of my friends used to go to the rec center a lot. And Bucky, my friend, he took some of your dad’s classes. A few of my friends did.” 

“You didn’t?” Peggy can’t believe the words as they exit her mouth. 

He smiles, “couldn’t. Had bad asthma as a kid.” 

Oh… “it’s better now?” 

He nods, “yep. Hardly bothers. But I keep my inhaler around just in case.” 

“And…” she knows it’s rude, but she has to know. And so she gestures weakly to his face, “how did—“ 

He doesn’t seem bugged at all, he just smiles and tilts his head towards her, “an accident. That’s all.” 

Well weren’t they a pair. “Oh. I’m sorry.” 

He shrugs, not bothered, “I don’t mind. So… you’re a fighter.” 

Her mind goes to the punching bag in her basement. “I was.” 

“And you quit because…?” 

“My heart wasn’t in it anymore.” 

He nods. “Ever think of…” he stops, like he’s searching for the right word, “trying again?” 

“Not yet.” 

Another nod. “I get that.” She looks at him curiously and he purses his lips before looking up at the moon, the light it shines making the scars look like lightning strikes. “A while back I stopped doing what I loved. Lost the taste for it, you know? I know you know. It’s like. Who cares right? Nothing is important because they’re not there to see it.” Her chest tightens at the accuracy. Why fight if her father wasn’t going to be there to cheer her on? If Michael wasn’t going to split a brownie sundae with her afterwards? “So I just… stopped.” His face tips down, and the moonlight glistens on his blonde hair, “but then I…” his nose wrinkles. “Well, anyway I got back onto what I wanted to do once I realized that it’s only me. Only I can make that choice. And I guess I was ready too. So I get it.” 

There’s still pieces she doesn’t have. Who did he lose? His friend? She’s not sure. 

“I’m glad you found it again.” She says softly, not looking at him, “whatever it was.” 

“Me too.” He responds, “and I hope one day your heart is in it again.” He gives her a half smile, “whatever it is.” 

Her eyes cast down to her shoes and she nods. 

“Let’s go, it’s almost curfew.” They both look to see Pietro standing in front of them, looking at his watch. 

Steve stands, “you just wanna get home so you can eat the food Winnie packed for you.” Pietro makes a face and Steve laughs, “come on, let’s go.” 

—————-

“The skylight was cleaned for the first time in ages.” Audrey is saying, pointing out details in the pictures she’d brought. “And the porch was a wash. They’re redoing it now.” 

Her mother was rather stone faced. And Peggy couldn’t help the fresh wave of grief and anxiety at each picture. Each glimpse of the house that held so many memories. 

But her Aunt never gave in. Everytime she could see her mom and her losing it, she would press on, bringing up a yes or a no question. Something that wasn’t difficult or emotional. “Blue or gray?” “New curtains or blinds?” “Do you like the color faded mint for the outside shed?” 

So they pressed forward. Each picture hurting a tad less. 

—————-

“What do you think, black or refried?” Peggy looks up from where she’s staring at different tortillas to see her aunt considering two types of beans. 

“Mom prefers black.” She answers, grabbing a package of white corn tortillas and walking over. 

“Black beans it is.” They walk towards the front, grabbing a head of lettuce and passing by the home decor section near the front of the store. Her heart skips a beat at the table set up right at the entrance. 

She flips her head the other way, hoping he hadn’t seen her. 

“Peggy—“ her aunt calls way too loudly, “should we get salsa? Or guacamole?” 

“Either.” Peggy breathes out, “either is fine.” Her own eyes betray her as they look back towards him and see that he’s now looking their way. He raises a hand in a small wave and she waves back weakly. The hair she’d thrown into a ponytail and the leggings and tank top making her feel a mess. 

“Pegs?” 

She turns to see her Aunt behind her, looking over her shoulder, “do you know him?” 

“Uh-huh.” She responds, felling slightly panicky, “I work with him.” 

Her aunt raises an eyebrow and starts to walk over. 

“Aunt Audrey—“ she starts, but it’s too late. The woman is standing at the display table and eyeing the selection. Which is when it catches Peggy’s attention as well. Sculptures and statues, and art all gathered on and around his table. Stained glass somehow incorporated in every piece. 

“Hey.” Steve says with a smile, the colors of the stained glass reflecting off his face. 

“Hi.” She answers a bit hoarsely back, clearing her throat and trying again. “Hello.” 

“Are you the artist?” Peggy’s aunt asks, staring at a little display that holds window hangings, meant to catch sunlight and disperse light. 

“Yes.” He answers, shifting to a more professional demeanor, “those are handmade with recycled glass, and the coloring isn’t artificial either. I melt and dye every piece on my own.” 

Peggy blinks at him, surprised. 

“They’re beautiful.” Her aunt breathes out, twirling one on her finger, “but do you make bigger pieces? Full windows?” 

Steve looks at her in surprise but he nods, “I mean… yes, I could.” 

“Oh Pegs, that window, you know the one?” Her aunt is gesturing at her but still eyeing the pieces, “the circle window in the upper attic room, and then the small square window in the bathroom. Oh these will be perfect.” She gets out a pen and paper, “so if I give you size requirements you could make me two?” 

The beach house. She’s buying Steve’s art for the beach house. 

“Of course.” He answers, “any particular colors or designs?” 

“No.” Her aunt says, “I can see you have the artists eye. I trust your vision. Although I will say lighter schemes for the circular and darker color scheme for the rectangular.” Her aunt is scribbling something on a notepad she pulled from her purse, “and here’s the size. When’s a good time frame for you? No rush. I won’t be able to install them for at least a month.” 

“Um,” Steve hesitates, and it’s a rare moment where Peggy sees nerves. “I could probably have these ready in… three weeks?” 

“Splendid!” Her aunt says, “and I do want some of these smaller things for my home. Peggy pick something out!” She leads Steve to a piece on the other side, discussing its qualities and what she thinks of the piece. Steve listens intently and doesn’t seem out out at all as she discusses his art. 

Peggy takes a moment to bend down and look at the little hanging ornaments. A white glass star surrounded by dark blue glass and then red and white concentric circles catches her eye. And it reminds her of the mailboxes outside of Winnie’s house and where Steve lives. Stars must be a big deal to them. 

“Here—“ scarred hands appear in her line of vision and delicately lift the ornament off its hangar. “Take it.” 

His hands were scarred. She’s never noticed. Although it’s much fainter. “Oh, I couldn’t.” She says back, straightening. 

“Please.” He says kindly, “I want you to have it. Your aunt has spent a ton, I’d like to show my thanks.” 

“Oh she— I— I mean, I didn’t.” 

“Do you like it?” 

She stares at the perfect circle, somehow the little star in the middle and the patriotic colors drawing her in as if taking it would be like having a piece of Steve with her. 

Which is ridiculous because she has Fred. Kind of. 

Not really. 

“Yes.” She responds, seeing her aunt move further away in her peripheral. “It’s beautiful.” 

“Then take it.” He says firmly, “please.” 

And she could say no. Maybe should say no. But she hears herself say “okay.” Quietly back. “Thank you.” 

The ornament dangles from her finger and spins, catching the light, dousing them both in those colors. And she swears she stops breathing when Steve smiles. His eyes crinkling. 

“See you on Tuesday.” He says, another customer walking up to his table.

“Yeah. Tuesday.” 

When she catches up to her aunt there’s an eyebrow raise she tries to ignore. “Quite the handsome young man there.” She questions, waiting for some response that Peggy refuses to give. “Aren’t you dating Fuddy-duddy Fred?” 

Peggy sighs and holds the ornament against her palm. “He and I are on a break. Not that that matters at all in regards to Steve.” 

“Oh doesn’t it?” 

Peggy just stomps forward and her aunt laughs merrily. 

—————

They’re unloading the van when Peggy finds herself alone with Angie and she can’t stop herself from asking. She grabs Angie’s arm, who stops and looks at her in question. “Who did Steve lose?” 

Angie’s eyes get sad, “what do you mean?” 

“He mentioned that…” Peggy waits till Pietro is fully back behind the van before she continues, “that he stopped doing what he loved for a while because someone wouldn’t be there to see it. But he didn’t say who.” 

“Sarah.” Angie says with a soft and mournful expression, “his mom.” 

Something tight turns in Peggy’s chest, how had she not known he had lost a parent too? “How?” 

“Cancer. About three years ago.” Angie gestures to the van and the logo there, “Her and Winnie were the founders of this catering company after both families moved from New York just over 10 years back. B&R stands for Barnes and Rogers.” 

That pulls her to a stop, “wait New York?” 

Angie smiles, “yep, and funnily enough I was born there too, Queens tho, not Brooklyn. And I moved her real little.” 

“And Steve’s dad?” 

“Dead longer than his mom.” 

Her stomach grows heavy, “siblings?” 

Angie’s lips thin, and she shakes her head, “not by blood.” 

“Angie, where are those rolls!” Winnie calls from the door. 

“Coming!” Angie shouts back, “he’s got us though.” She says with a cheery smile, her usually optimistic mood sliding back into place. “And you’ve got us too you know?” 

And somehow, knowing that Steve had lost a parent and they don’t treat him like a sob story actually does make her feel better. “Yeah.” Peggy says, her throat a bit tight, “thanks.” 

“Angie!” 

“I’m coming! Geez!” 

————

Peggy ducks down from the window and tries not to gasp. 

“Peggy?” She turns, seeing Winnie eye her suspiciously. “You okay?” 

“Fine!” She squeaks, “can I tray in the kitchen?” 

“Oh, I—“ 

“I’ll tray everything, and make van runs, and anything else you need!” 

Winnie narrows her eyes but doesn’t question. “Fine. For now.” 

Peggy sighs in relief and gets to work. Handing out trays and supplies in record time to avoid having to go out there. 

Where they are. 

Fred’s parents. 

She makes it to almost dessert when disaster strikes. A crash and a crowd wide gasp. 

Angie comes in and her face is pinched. “Wanda and Pietro crashed. And there’s glass and wine. Everywhere. Like… everywhere .” 

Steve walks in, comforting a still impassive looking Wanda and Pietro’s face is guarded. “Oh please tell me it was white wine.” 

Angie blinks at her and then grimaces. “Shit!” Winnie huffs out, “fine, Carter, how are you at handling stains?” 

“Oh, I don’t—“ 

“Perfect! Put this under the list of anything else.” The woman shoves a spray bottle and a towel into her hands and she and Angie get shoved out the door. Peggy keeps her head down as they walk towards the mess and they’re working when she hears it. 

“Margaret?” 

She ignores it. This is a group of older people. There has to be another Margaret here. 

“Margaret Carter, is that you?” She winces and then looks up, acting surprised to see Fred’s mother standing there, staring at her with an odd expression. “It is you!” 

“Hello.” She says, still dabbing at the stain, “good to see you.” 

She can feel Angie’s observant eyes on you. 

“You are…” the woman eyes her apron, “working with catering?” 

Peggy nods, knowing where this was going. “Yes. In addition to the library. Extra money for college you know.” 

“Ah…” the woman says. 

“Margie!” Fred’s dad says, appearing from wherever he’s been, “look at you, you’re looking well. Sorry about the update with Fred. You know he’s just so dedicated to his goals and all.” 

Her breath is starting to get faster and she fakes a smile, for the first time in weeks feeling the fake mask slip over her face while she’s with this group. She’s fine, it’s all fine. 

“Of course.” Peggy says, straightening up with the spray bottle and towel and broken glass on a tray. 

“You know Fred.” The mom reiterates, “so focused on his future and goals. I just know he’s trying to do what’s best for both of your futures. You understand. He has goals he needs to focus on. Right? Such a go-getter.” 

And maybe it’s because the statement is said so frivolously. So heartlessly. Or because Peggy always knew one day Fred was going to grow tired of her leaning on him for support that she doesn’t even feel surprised at this statement. “Right.” She responds, “of course.” 

She hears Angie make a disbelieving scoff sound but she can’t. She needs to go. So she nods and heads towards the kitchen, pushing through the door and hearing Angie slam after her. 

“What the hell, Peggy! You can’t let people just say that crap!” 

“It’s nothing.” She says quickly, “they don’t mean anything by it!” 

“What?” Winnie asks. And a Peggy wants to beg her to stay quiet. To not lay bare her embarrassment to the whole kitchen. 

To Steve who is staring with a tilted head and concerned look. 

“Peggy’s sort of on a break boyfriend’s jackass parents are here and they just said that it’s good that they’re on a break since Peggy doesn’t fit into his future goals !” 

Winnie gasps and even Wanda seems to blink quicker than normal. But Peggy’s eyes are on Steve’s whose eyebrows pull down and a frown grows on his lips. 

“It’s fine—“ 

“Peggy!” Angie says, grabbing her shoulders and shaking her, “it’s not fine. If that’s what Fred said to you then you should actually break up with him. For real. He sounds like scum.” 

“No.” Peggy responds, bristling at her words. Fred had been there and helped her stay sane and in-line when her world had been chaos. “He’s just dedicated to his future.” 

“Listen to yourself! You just said his future! Not yours!” 

“Angie.” Winnie says in a voice that Peggy hasn’t heard before. A calm and quiet voice. A mother’s firm but gentle voice. “That’s enough. Go get the rest of the trays out there. Peggy, stay here and I need strawberries washed and sliced. Wanda, get to the van and get the melting chocolates. Steve get back out to the bar and start another round of drinks. Pietro, you’re taking trays with Angie. Now go.” 

And they all listen. Moving quietly and getting back to work. 

————-

“I’m forgetting something.” 

“You’re not.” Angie repeats, huffing as Winnie frets outside of George’s car. Peggy’s met him a few times. He seems nice, quiet and reserved but nice. He always has Rebecca and the girl follows him like a little duck. 

“I am.” Winnie insists. 

“The trays and carts and supplies are all packed up.” Pietro fires off, walking towards Steve’s car. 

“And we checked the fridge and freezer and the dining room. Everything got got.” Angie adds swinging Steve’s keys. Wanda is already sitting in his back seat. 

“And Steve, you’re sure you're okay to drive the van? I—“ 

“It’s fine.” He insists, “Angie will drive my car to the house and I’ll park the van in the car port. And I’ll leave the keys in the kitchen, okay?” 

“I am forgetting something. ” The woman insists. But after they stay silent and she can’t think of anything, she sighs and gets into George’s car. “I guess I’ll think of it. See you on Thursday.” 

Peggy goes to join Wanda in the back seat when she hears a click. The door handle doesn’t unlatch and she looks up. Wanda just shrugs and Angie is turned to her, smiling from the front seat. “We’re going to a party. So if you want to get back to your car, guess you have to ride with Steve.” 

Peggy rolls her eyes and glares at the girl as she stomps to the passenger side door of the van. “Can I ride with you?” She asks as she opens the door and Steve turns to her with a questioning look, “apparently they’re going to a party but I need to get home and my car is at Winnie’s.” 

“Of course.” He says, turning over her engine. 

————

“Oh.” Peggy looks up to ask what when she feels the lurch and then hears the spluttering as the engine kicks off. The car rolling a few more feet before stopping. Steve looks over at her and winces, “that’s what she forgot.” 

Peggy sighs. “Gas.” 

“Gas.” 

—————

They take a guess, the roads unfamiliar to both of them, so they head to the right. Hoping they’ll run across a gas station or a kind driver along the way. 

“So.” Steve says softly, looking up as the sun starts to crest over the hills, “sorry about this. I know you were trying to get home.” 

“It’s fine.” She shrugs, trying to decide if the elation at being stuck and alone with him is a bad thing or not. “It happens.” 

It falls quiet again and she searches for something, anything to say. “The little glass light catcher is really pretty.” She says, “I have a room that faces the sunrise, so it’s cool.” 

She feels his eyes turn to her and can almost feel his smile. “Oh yeah?” His voice is soft and filled with joy, “that’s awesome. I’m really glad.” 

“I’m sorry about your mom.” 

He freezes for a second and she stops, looking at him, her throat going dry but forcing herself to talk anyways. “I didn’t know. And you were nice about my family. And I just…” her throat gets tighter, “I just think it’s good to know someone who understands. Even if the way they left was different. We still got left.” 

“Not by choice.” His eyes are dark and a bit guarded, and the scars seem to contrast even deeper. “They didn’t leave us by choice.” 

Her heart beats a bit too fast at that statement. As if he needs to assure himself. As if someone may have said differently. “I know.” She responds, “of course.” 

He starts walking again and they fall into step. She sees him shake his head and it’s as if he shakes the darkness off with it. Whatever haunted him in that minute ago is gone. “So,” he starts, “know any good games?” 

She eyes him, “games?” 

“Yeah like I Spy but…” he pauses, surveying the dimming light. “Something less sight based.” 

She huffs out a soft laugh and thinks, “I mean, there’s first letter last letter I used to play with my brother, and then there’s Truth or there’s—“ 

“Wait, don’t you mean Truth or Dare?” 

She shakes her head, “no, this game is just called Truth.” 

He tilts his head as they keep walking, the asphalt quietly crunching under their shoes. “So…. You just what… tell the truth?” 

She nods, “right.” 

“And there’s a winner?” 

She laughs, boys and their winning.  “You ask questions and the first person to refuse to answer their question gets to ask one last question. And if that person does answer then they win.” 

“Sounds easy enough.” 

“Sure. It starts out that way. Until you only have the hard questions left and then it’s lose or spill your guts. Always good for digging up drama at a sleepover.” 

“Mental.” He says with a laugh, “but okay, hit me.” 

She startles, shaking her head, “no. You don’t want to play.” 

“Yes.” He insists, “I do.” 

“You have to tell the truth—“

“Or you lose.” He huffs, “I get it. Hit me.” 

The few and far between street lamps create a soft haze as the summer heat causes a cacophony of critters to start their evening symphony. 

“What’s your favorite food?” 

He glares at her, “that’s a toddler question. Don’t belittle me.” 

“I’m just—“ she huffs out a laugh, “trying to warm you up for what is to come. I hate losing.” 

And it’s this. This otherwise innocuous comment that makes him study her, and a slow dangerously handsome smile spreads across his face. As if she's already given away too much. Or given him something for the very first time. 

“Well we have that in common.” He says back, his voice deep and making her shiver even though the night is too warm. 

“Okay,” she starts again, shifting topics, “why were you in Prier’s?” 

His lips purse and she suddenly wonders where that even came from. Pushing too hard too fast. She’s about to backtrack when he sighs and tilts his head up towards the rising moon. “I got into a big fight. Several actually. And it was more of an 80th strike type of thing.” 

Her eyes go to his fists where the scars are. Maybe he didn’t get them all at the same time. “Fights?” 

“Nope,” he says with an amused grin. “My turn. What’s up with your ‘on a break boyfriend’?” 

And it’s her mouth that pops open that makes him raise an eyebrow. Like he’s saying “two can play that game”. 

She can’t seem to form the words. 

“Is this you passing?” He asks incredulously. 

“No.” She snaps. “I’m gathering my response.” 

It’s quiet for a few more minutes before he sighs, “is there a time limit.” 

“No.” She snaps again, causing him to laugh. 

She remembers the bare bones she gave to Angie and Wanda. “We’ve been dating for over a year, and he’s really smart and dedicated to ensuring his future and…” her voice gets softer, “I got too clingy.” 

His eyes narrow briefly, “define clingy?” 

“You don’t know the word?” She asks with gritted teeth. 

He frowns at her. “I know what it means to me .” 

And his barb makes her bristle. “I wasn’t taking the job he’d left me seriously enough. And I told him I loved him over email and he got hesitant about how fast we were moving.” 

She sees him processing this, and his hands get shoved into his pockets. “Okay.” 

But his ‘okay’ sounds like he is judging the situation. But in a nice way. So she just glares at him. And he keeps walking. It’s her turn. And she wants to ask about who Natasha is. If he loves her or how long they’ve been dating. But for some reason she can’t bring herself to. She doesn’t want to know. 

“Why did you get into fights?” 

And this doesn’t even seem to phase him. “There’s always something or someone to fight for.” 

Not the answer she expects, and yet it seems very fitting for him. 

“Why did your heart go out of fighting?” 

“You know the answer to this.” She whispers. 

“I don’t know the Truth version.” 

“My dad trained me and my brother since we were toddlers.” She starts, disbelief filling her as her mouth actually starts to tell the story. “He was military when he was younger and he always believed we should know how to defend ourselves. So he taught us and those classes at the rec center and I always wanted to make him proud. Always. I won always because I couldn’t bear to let him down. Even though I know he loved me and wouldn’t care. I knew I could win. So I did. And then—“ her voice catches and she feels Steve’s eyes on her. “I wanted food. I was hungry. Fighting takes a lot of energy—“ then she laughs mirthlessly, “as you probably know. So I begged him to take me. To go grab food. And he did. He drove me and Michael until there was this deer and her baby, and next thing I know were flipped over and against a telephone pole. All because I couldn’t eat the food we had at home. He’s dead because I was hungry—“ she grinds out that last word. Never having told that part. Not her mother. Knowing her mom probably already blames her anyways. “And then there was no one to fight for anymore.” 

And the irony of his previous words ring in her mind, There’s always something or someone to fight for. 

“Peggy.” His voice is deep and reproachful, but still filled with a sort of tender kindness that she already knows what he’s going to say. 

But he doesn’t get a chance. Headlights swoop in front of them and a truck rolls to a stop. “You kids lost?” 

“Tan out of gas.” Steve says, “can you tell us where the nearest station is?” 

“Bout four miles back that way.” The man gives them an amused grin and they groan. “Hop in, I’ll getchu there quick.” 

“Thanks.” Steve walks around and gets in the car, sitting in the middle of the bench seat which Peggy is grateful for. So she isn’t next to the strange man. But he’s nice as they drive back and pass their van. “That you?” 

“Yep.” They both respond. And it’s not a two minute drive in the other direction until they hit a neon sign. 

“Thanks.” Steve says, following her out of the car and grabbing the van from the back. “Really appreciate it.” 

The man nods and takes off. And then she follows him inside where he pays for gas and then grabs a couple of waters and a bag of sour patch kids. 

She raises her eyes but he just shrugs and then goes out to fill up the gas can. 

Her phone rings. 

Her mom. 

“Hello?” 

“You’re not home.” It's another one of those accusatory statements that’s half a question and half a statement. 

“We were driving back and the van ran out of gas. I’m sorry, we’re walking back to it now and I’ll be home soon.” 

“Good.” 

Her mom hangs up and she can feel Steve’s eyes on her. But she doesn’t look up. Just keeps her phone clenched in her hand and walks down the dark road with him quietly beside her. 

—————

“You promise?” 

“Audrey—“ 

“No. Amanda, promise me. When I finish this house, you’ll be ready to go. I’ve been patient but I’m putting my foot down.” 

“We’re having the big dinner gala thing and I need to focus on that.” 

“Okay, after the gala then. When is it?” 

“August 9.” 

“Okay. Then we will go the Sunday after. Deal?” 

But Peggy watches as her mom is already looking at her phone, reading some email or answering some question. 

“Amanda you heard me? Is that fine?” 

“Yes.” Her mom answers, not really paying attention, “fine.” 

Her aunt smiles and waves goodbye. “See you soon!” 

—————

Peggy isn’t exactly sure how it happened. But as they work together and hang out, she realizes that she’s genuine friends with Steve. He’s kind and considerate and so handsome it makes Peggy’s stomach churn just looking at him. And the mutual loss of a parent, and the consequent spilling of Peggy’s darkest secret had solidified their friendship, not cracked it as she had expected. 

“Why are they staring?” 

Peggy looks up from where she was watching Pietro argue one-sidedly with Wanda to see where Steve is looking. Four girls stand there, cups in their hands and suspicious looks on their faces. 

Girls who went to her school. 

“How should I know?” Peggy answers mildly.

“Because they’re staring at you.” 

She sighs, “they’re probably just surprised to see me at a party.” 

“Because you hate parties?” 

“No. Because they assume I’m like Fred. Who would never be caught dead at a party like this.” 

“Because…?”

“Because it reeks of ‘lack of focus for one’s goals’.” She snorts and then covers her mouth in surprise, he raises an amused eyebrow and she winces, “his words not mine.” 

A few girls pass by. Walking slowly in front of them, as if hoping Steve will look up and notice them. Peggy has noticed this at almost every party. Girls noticing Steve. Heavily flirting. Practically throwing themselves at him. But he shows no interest. Almost like he doesn’t notice them. 

And Peggy wonders if it’s because he’s taken. 

Natasha. 

The girl she still hasn’t even seen. 

“Hey Steve.” 

They look up to a girl who smiles and giggles as she walks past. Steve just nods and then is back to looking at the ground. “So if he were here, he wouldn’t be partaking?” He points to the keg where a couple people are filling up their cups. 

“No.” Peggy says firmly, “definitely not.” 

“I noticed you don’t drink.” He says nonchalantly. 

“Doesn’t appeal to me too much.” 

“Me either.” He says calmly. But there’s something in his eyes that she knows means there’s a deeper story there. 

“Steve!” 

They look up and a nice looking guy comes over. “Hey Gabe.” 

“Hey, how you been, man?” 

Peggy feels the way Steve’s body shifts, “good. You?” 

“Yeah man. Hey, I saw Barnes. He’s doing good. Thought you’d want to know.” 

Steve’s voice is a bit rougher, “yeah. Thanks man. Good to know.” 

The guy waves and disappears. 

When more girls pass by, clearly hoping for his attention, Peggy huffs, “honestly.” 

“What?” 

“This is ridiculous. How can you stand it?” 

“Stand what?” 

“The fact that they’re waiting for you to pounce.” She says in a slightly irritated tone.

“Excuse me?” 

“Come on. Don’t pretend.” 

“Don’t pretend what?” 

“That you don’t notice.” 

Steve was still looking passively past her, but she could see his jaw was tighter, “notice what.” 

“The way the girls stare. Try to entice you. Lay themselves in your path.” 

“I’m going to get a drink.” He says with a huff, looking like he was going to stand. 

“Thought you didn’t drink.” 

“I do if we’re having this conversation.” 

“So you do notice.” 

“Notice what? That four guys have been staring at you the entire time we’ve been talking?” 

The switch shocks her, causing her to bristle, “they have not.” 

“They have.” 

“I’m not the one who is…” she pauses and it’s like an out of body moment as she hears the word leave her lips, “gorgeous.” 

His eyes go flat and he rolls them, “what are we even talking about right now. Can we get back to reality—“ 

“I am telling the truth.” 

“I wouldn’t know.” He grits out, then he gestures to her, “but you would. So tell me.” 

“Tell you what?” 

“What it’s like to be gorgeous.” 

Her heart skips a beat. “I’m not.” 

“Sure you are.” 

“Steve, you’re—-“ 

“Can we talk about something else?” He asks while leaning back, the shirt stretching against his chest. “Please.” 

“Like what?” 

“I don’t care. Anything else.” 

“We could go back to Truth.” 

He waves a hand, “fine. Good. Let me think—“ 

“It’s my turn.” She cuts him off. 

“No, it’s—“ 

“I told you about my dad. Why I quit fighting. It’s my turn.” 

“Oh.” He looks at her and shrugs, “okay, go.” 

“What’s it like to have girls staring and swooning over you all the time?” 

His glare makes her grin. 

“Peggy.” 

“You asked to play.” 

He sighs and scrubs a hand down his face and then glares out at the people passing by, “that doesn’t happen.”

She pokes his arm. “The game is called truth . And you’re breaking the one rule.” 

“I don’t know. I don’t care. If it’s even happening, it doesn’t matter.” 

“Steve. You’re not being truthful.” 

His eyes find hers and he’s genuinely annoyed. “It’s stupid.” He finally says, “it’s not real. It’s all surface. They don’t know me or actually care about me . Who I am inside.” 

“What’s real to you?” 

“It’s my turn.” 

“Steve, this is my follow up question.” 

“That’s not a thing.” 

“It is now. Answer please.” 

His face tips up, and he sighs. “People are people. They look how they look and we all age and that stuff isn’t important. What matters is who they actually are. Those girls wouldn’t like me if they knew me . They just expect me to be and act totally different because of how I look. And they’d be sorely disappointed.” He looks at her and then crosses his arms over his chest, “my turn now?” 

She nods. 

“Why are you so set on people thinking you’re fine.” 

“What?” 

“Why act fine if you’re not?” 

His eyes bore into hers and she can’t speak for a moment. “I am fine.” 

His eyes narrow, “remind me the name of the game.” 

“I am fine. It’s all fine.” 

“So everything’s perfect?” 

“It’s not about perfection.” 

“Then what’s it about?” 

“Being in control.” She blurts out quickly. 

There’s a pause. “Explain.” 

“When my world shattered after my dad and Michael, Fred helped me glue those pieces back. I could be fine again if I prepared myself for everything. If I stuck to a schedule and ensured I was doing what I could to not have any loose ends or surprises. If I made sure I was fine, then my mom and Fred or my aunt didn’t have to worry. It’s safe.” 

“And you think…” he looks at her, “that that is sustainable?” 

“Come on.” Angie huffs, popping out of nowhere and sitting besides them, “let’s go this party sucks.” 

“You’re just mad Sam’s not here.” Steve says with a grin. 

Angie sticks out her tongue at him and they laugh, getting up to go. 

———-

“There she is.” 

Peggy turns from her stack of papers and looks at the voice. Angie is standing there, her bracelets and earrings jangling. 

“What are you doing here?” Peggy asks, looking around to see if Dottie or Whitney had noticed. 

“Winnie wants me to check out a cooking book. She couldn’t come out herself.” 

“Well here.” Peggy responds quickly, “cookbooks are down that aisle.

“What’s their deal?” Angie points down another aisle, and Peggy sees Dottie and Whitney staring, a cart of returns between them. “So it’s almost your lunch break, right?” 

Dottie whispers something to Whitney and they both narrow their eyes. 

“Yes.” 

“Great.” She says too loudly, causing the two to stare harder, “meet me at the diner down the block.” 

“Oh, I don’t—“ 

“What, the two eyeball twins don’t allow lunch?” 

“They do, I just—“ 

“Just what?” 

“I don’t want to make them angry.” 

“Angry that you ate lunch? On your lunch break?” 

“They get snippy about time.” 

“We won’t be late.” 

“Angie—“ 

“What is your deal? Why are you worried what they think?” 

She couldn’t say what came to her mind. That they mattered to Fred. Or that they intimidate her. Or that they look down on her and therefore she feels like she has to earn their respect. Which is laughable really. 

“I just don’t want to screw up this job.” 

Angie snorts, causing the two to glare again. “Why, because working here looks like a bag of fun? Geez, they look miserable”. 

“What?” 

“Look.” Angie points, then waves at the two girls who startle and turn back to their jobs. “They look absolutely miserable. Just look.”

And Peggy does. And instead of seeing two well put together girls. She sees pinched faces and insecurity. 

“If that’s what you want to look like then fine but I wouldn’t. We’ll be at the diner if you want.” 

When Angie steps out of the doors, the light catches her light brown hair, making it glow. Peggy watches in awe as she just is who she is. No facades or fakes. 

So when she returns from lunch and sees those same pinched expressions. She does nothing to try to lessen them. No longer desiring for their respect. Instead, glad she didn’t have it. It wasn’t worth anything to her anyway. 

————-

“So you’re trying to set me up.” 

“No.” Angie reassures, “it’s just a couple of guys. And they said I should bring a friend.” 

“I’m not going on a date, Angie.” 

“It’s not a date. It’s a hang out. Come on.” 

“Angie—“ 

“Please for me?!” 

Peggy sighs. The balsamic stain on her cuff standing out in the fluorescents. “I don’t know.” 

“I promise it will be fun.” 

“I don’t believe you.” 

Angie sighs and then collects her purse and phone. “Fine, but when I call back and tell you you really missed out then you’ll be sorry.” 

“Sounds good to me.” 

Angie’s glares at her then kisses her cheek, “see you on Monday.” 

Peggy walks out of Winnie’s house and to her car. When the sculpture she’d first seen catches her eye. She drops her phone through her window and walks over, looking at the large over grown garden and the statue in the middle. 

“Peggy?” 

The scream of surprise that leaves her startles the birds in several neighborhoods. 

She whips around to see Steve, wide eyed and hand shot in surrender. “What the hell, Steve!” 

“I’ve been calling your name since you walked out here—“ 

“I’m not Pietro, and I’m not part of your silly game!” 

He blinks at her. He and Pietro trade “gotcha’s” and trying to surprise one another. But never has she experienced the shrill horror of it. 

“I wasn’t.” He insists. “I promise.” 

“Sure.” She snaps, her adrenaline still crashing, “I’m sure this will be a great laugh to whoever you tell.” 

He straightens and his face gets serious. “I’m not going to tell anyone. And I promise I didn’t mean to scare you. Honest.” 

And his face is so genuine she has to believe him. “I know.” She admits, embarrassment seeping in. “Sorry for yelling.” 

“Sorry for scaring you…” he looks around helplessly, “you really can scream.” She glares at him and he raises his hands up, “sorry.” 

“It’s okay.” She whispers. 

“Let me make it up to you?” 

“How?” 

“Just… come on.” 

She follows as he leads her out of the garden. 

—————-

“I’m confused.” 

“I understand.” He says calmly, “you just have to be patient.” 

She looks around the diner. Styled like the 1950’s with chrome top counter and the thick vinyl booths. But it was the giant cardboard alien that stood by the jukebox that made her raise an eyebrow. 

“It’s an alien.” 

“It’s a Sci-fi diner.” 

“Okay…. And that means…?” 

“Foods outta this world.” 

Her eyes snap to his but he’s looking at his menu with a blank stare. 

“That’s a horrible joke.” 

Slowly his eyes lift to hers and that dangerously handsome smile spreads across his face. “Never said I was joking.” 

She scoffs but is struggling to keep the smile off her face. 

“Just make sure you order something with the hash browns.” He adds seriously, “they’re the best.” 

She picks up the menu, eyeing its contents and nods. “I suppose I’ll have to trust your judgement.” 

He chuckles and the waitress appears, “what can I get started for y’all?” 

“I’ll have the French toast.” Steve says, “with eggs. Scrambled. And then the hash browns instead of the meat.” 

The waitress nods and turns to Peggy. “And for you?” 

Steve looks at her and she has the urge to trace the scars on his face, but instead turns to the waitress, “can I have the same thing?” 

The woman nods and collects the menu. 

“Smart choice.” 

“Hmm.” Peggy responds, looking at the diner, and it’s few other patrons, “figured if you’re familiar here then you know the best options.” 

He’s smiling at her again and she feels her breath threaten to wobble at how positively handsome he is. So she looks away, reminding herself that they both have someone else. 

The food was amazing. Comforting and heavy and delicious. “Told you.” She heard his voice, a bit of smugness in it. 

“I suppose…” she says slowly, “you weren’t incorrect.” 

His smile has her smiling back. 

—————-

“Are you sure this job is a good idea?” 

Peggy looks up from her bowl of cereal to see her mother standing there. Eyes boring into her. 

“What?” 

“You’re coming home later and later. You’re barely home.” You’re one to talk , Peggy thinks as her mother continues, “and I ran into Fred’s mother yesterday.” 

Oh no. 

“Oh?” 

“And she mentioned that you and Fred had broken up—“ 

“We’re on a break.” Peggy corrects, though she isn’t sure why, “it’s just a break. We’re going to talk about it at the end of the summer when he comes back.” 

“And you didn’t mention this… because?” 

“Just didn’t think it was necessary.” Her mother’s face starts to shift and she interjects on herself, “until a permanent decision is being made.” 

“I’m just not sure this catering job is helping you. You have goals and aspirations. The library and the SAT helps that. I’m not sure this does.” 

Her jaw tightens but she fights to remain calm. She was that way because it was necessary. Or she thought it was. To be fine. But now she was actually starting to feel fine. Actually be it. 

“I’ve never missed a day at the library—“ 

“I know—“ 

“And I haven’t fallen behind in my studying. I’m ahead actually—“ 

“And I want it to stay that way. I don’t like that you’re hanging out with people I don’t know. And I want to ensure that your priorities stay on what matters.” 

What matters. And what is that? She thinks. But she says nothing. 

“Okay.” 

Her mother nods, smiling tightly, “good.” And as she walks away, the phone in her office ringing. Peggy realizes that her mother thinks they’re in agreement. That the issue is resolved at least on her end. 

And it doesn’t matter that Peggy doesn’t agree. Or that she isn’t on the same page. Because her mother says so. And that’s that. 

And that’s supposed to be fine. 

She walks up the stairs, quietly padding to her room ready to fall onto her bed. 

But there’s something in her way. 

A brown bag is on her bed. She sees the note. 

Found this hidden in their bedroom. Think you should have it. I believe it would have been for Christmas. 

Love,

Aunt A 

A small package rests inside. Wrapped in red and a plastic bow on top. But what catches her eye is the card. 

To my Fighter

The handwriting of her father makes her heart lurch. And she withdraws her hands as if burned. 

Without thinking she grabs the package and shoves it into her closet, closing the door with a snap. 

Not now. She couldn’t receive a gift from him now. She didn’t deserve it. 

————-

“It’s your turn.” 

“Okay,” she says with a wriggle as she shimmies out of her apron. And grabbing her shoes. They head out to the van and slide into their seats. They got to go get the van cleaned while Angie, Pietro and Wanda had to slice up a thousand vegetables. “What’s your biggest fear?” 

He thinks for a moment. “Being sick.” 

She furrows her brow, “being sick?” 

“Yeah.” 

“…. Why?” 

But he just looks out the window and she sees him practically shiver, “because.” 

And for some reason she doesn’t press. 

———

“Margaret—“ her mother calls her from her office, “remember that I need you on July 4th. We’re having that open house mixer for new buyers.” 

“Yes, I’ll be there.” 

“Good.” 

———

The end of June is upon them and she and Steve know a lot about each other now. She knows that he grew up in Brooklyn, but when his dad died they moved to North Carolina. It was cheaper to run a business here than there, and the Barnes moved along with them. 

Peggy knows that he prefers to eat salty over sweet but that he can’t turn down sour candies. She knows that he has broken all four of his limbs some way or another and that he doesn’t hear the greatest out of his left ear. 

He knows that she’s ambidextrous, and that she hates black licorice more than any other food. That she has excellent eyesight and is rather handy with cars due to Michael’s obsession with them. 

And it hit her that somehow she’s come to know more about Steve than anyone else in her life. If she asked her mother what her biggest fear was… not only does she think her mom wouldn’t answer but Peggy doesn’t even know the answer. Same with Fred or her few friends from school. 

And since they’d started with the hard questions… now they were on the easier things. The little things that add up to make Steve who he is. 

And that’s why, when she knocks on Winnie’s door, and no one answers, she only feels the tiniest bit of trepidation as she goes next door and knocks on Steve’s. 

It takes half a minute and then he’s staring at her. 

“Hi.” She says softly, suddenly feeling more awkward, “do you know if Winnie’s back?” 

“She had to take Rebecca to lessons.” He frowns and sighs, “she not tell you that?” 

“Nope.” 

He waves her in, “we’ll come on in. You can wait here. Unless you want to wait in the blistering heat.” 

“I don’t actually.” 

He laughs and she steps in, surprised by the coziness of it. It seems cleaned within an inch of its life. Everything in its place. But the surfaces and decorations seem warm and cheery. 

And a picture on the wall catches her eye. A blonde woman and Winnie standing next to each other. A puff of flour in the air and their cheeks painted with a star. Winnie has a red Star on her left cheek and the blonde, Sarah, Steve’s mom, she can tell by the features alone, has a white star on her right. 

And they’re smiling so widely. Peggy can see a tuft of blonde hair and then the top of a face with brunette hair at the bottom of the frame. As if they’d tried to join the picture but we’re too late. 

“That was the day they opened here.” 

She turns to see Steve looking back at her, his eyes on the picture. 

“Your mum?” 

He nods, “yeah.” 

“She’s the angel outside. Isn’t she?” 

The large metal sculpture, with the golden hair and the stained glass wings. 

He nods. 

“I’m assuming—“ she points to the blonde hair and he nods again. “Who is—“ her finger ghosts of the bright blue eyes that are just barely visible. 

“Bucky.” 

She’s heard this name multiple times. But has never met or seen him. 

“And he’s…?” 

“My best friend.” She knows he knows that’s not what she meant. But she doesn’t press and he doesn’t add anything. “You thirsty?” 

“Sure.” 

“Water? Lemonade? Tea?” 

“You live alone?” 

He was walking around the corner to what she assumes is the kitchen and he pauses, “yeah.” 

“And you have that many options for drinks?” 

His shoulders relax and he chuckles, “I like Arnold palmers. So sue me.” 

She laughs  and follows him. The deep wood shelves in the kitchen contrast well with the deep green painted counter cabinets and the bronze handles. 

“Your house is beautiful.” 

“My mom was always doing something.” He says, his head in the fridge finding something, “she loved to work on the house in her free time. I learned most of my skills just by watching her.” 

“She sounds amazing.” 

“She was. Everyonce and a while I’ll find a book, with something tucked between the pages. Some page she tore out of a magazine, or scrap she wrote a note on and used as a temporary bookmark. “And it’s like… she still has plans for the house. So I try to do them. When I can.” 

“Like?” 

He gestures at the vintage looking brass handles on the cabinets, “I found a advertisement for a estate sale. And my mom had circled ‘bronze fixtures’. Didn’t really know what she meant or wanted. But I went to the estate sale just a week after she died. Found these. Bought them and installed them. If she can’t do it, then I can do it for her.” 

He’s looking out the window by the sink and Peggy watches the way his throat bobs as if he’s swallowing hard. And she has the desperate urge to run over and wrap him in a hug. But she stays, hands gripping the counter, “that’s wonderful of you.” 

He just shrugs. “I owe it to her.” 

And the way he says this, laced with guilt makes her stomach churn. “Why?” 

He shakes his head and points to the jugs, “what’s your choice?” 

“Steve—“ 

“I also have Gatorade but that’s usually for Pietro because that kid can’t stay hydrated to save his life. But I’m sure I could spare one.” 

“Steve—“ 

“Or I have the keys to Winnie’s. I could let you in.” 

And she knows he’s not going to tell her. So she relents. 

“Lemonade, please.” 

“You got it.” 

—————-

After Winnie returns from dropping off Rebecca, she ends up sending them both away as she forgot to pick up the items at the store she was going to have them prep. 

So now Peggy stands awkwardly by her car door, not really wanting to go home, but not really knowing what else to do. 

“I’m going to head over to a party.” Steve says, “Sam’s back and he said he brought me some parts.” She nods, and waits, hoping he’s going to ask what he seems to be trialing towards, “You want to come?” 

“Sure.” 

—————

“What is going on!!” A shrill voice cuts into her ear. 

“Angie?” 

“You’re coming to parties with Steve now? When did this happen?” Peggy looks back where Steve had been stopped by someone halfway up the porch steps. 

“Nothing happened .” Peggy insists as Angie drags her inside. “I was supposed to help Winnie but then she didn’t need me and then Steve said he was coming here and offered to have me ride along—“ 

Angie snorts. 

“— as he got parts from Sam.” 

“Sam’s here?” 

“Supposed to be.”

Angie’s eyes immediately start scanning and Peggy laughs. 

“Come on.” Angie says, “we’re playing beer pong.” 

“I don’t want to.” 

“Peggy, you never do anything fun . Come on, live a little!” 

“It’s illegal.” 

Angie rolls her eyes and then shoves her in front of a ping pong table. “New player.” 

“No—“ Peggy insists. 

“Come on.” A voice from the opposite side says, “are you chicken?” 

Peggy narrows her eyes at the guy. Tan and sandy hair, sort of a curl to it. Stocky build. 

“Is that supposed to goad me into playing?” 

His answer is to bounce a ping pong ball and it splashes into the cup. 

“If you’re not a chicken. Then drink.” 

This is a bad idea. Terrible. But she does not like the way this guy’s eyes roam over her. Possessive and all too bold. 

She picks up the cup, downs the contents.  Not making a face even though it’s warm and tastes horrid. But she picks up a ping pong ball and aims, splashing into one of his cups. 

He raises an eyebrow and toasts to her, drinking. 

She turns to see Angie now talking to Sam as she walks to another part of the house. Peggy rolls her eyes and turns back. 

He goes again and she drinks. 

Same for him. 

But then she gets bumped in her next throw and her shot misses. He laughs and lands another into her cup. 

Now she’s a cup behind. 

She begrudgingly drinks, starting to feel a bit fuzzy. 

When she lands the next one but has to drink another right after she calls it quits. “Coward or not I’m done.” 

She pushes back and wobbles. His eyes on her sharply. Oh, this was a monumentally bad time for her pride to goad her. 

She steps out, finding herself in the crowded kitchen. 

She wants water. Needs it. 

Instead her opponent appears. Right in front of her. Too close. She backs up a step but hits the counter. And he steps, pressing up against her. 

“You’re good.” He says, leaning closer, his cologne making a head ache spring from no where.

“Thanks.” She responds tightly, trying to step to the side and away from him. His hand finds her wrist and he tugs on her arm. 

“Come on, let’s go outside and find somewhere private.” 

“No.” She says as firmly as she can manage. But then she stumbles and his hands are on her waist, fingers pushing at her shirt until his too warm fingers are touching the skin at her waist. 

“Come on.” He whispers in her ear, now using his body to practically push her outside the back door. They make it to the porch and down the steps, Peggy trying to find her balance to get away from him, but he spins her, holding her close to his chest. “I’ve got a few more moves I know you’ll like.” 

With her body facing him, she’s able to raise her hands to his chest. He lights up, thinking she’s accepting him, his fingers once again finding their way under her shirt and onto her waist. But instead she shoves away, pushing them both off balance and she stumbles back, expecting to hit the ground. 

But then suddenly she’s being straightened. Something cool and firm against her back. Fingers grip one arm steadying her, and another is on her waist, but unlike the previous guy, this feels steady and reassuring, holding her up. No groping fingers or skin to skin. Just support.

Her head tilts back to see Steve behind her, the lights from the house reflecting off his scars. “There you are.” He says slowly, but the voice he uses makes her shiver. A mix of fury and calmness. His eyes not leaving the guy in front of them, who has found his balance and is staring at them now. 

“Rogers.” 

“Hodge.” 

“She’s with me.” 

“No.” Steve’s voice is deeper. A sort of power that makes it like a force is radiating off him, “she’s not.” 

“And how the hell would you know that.” 

“Because she rode here with me.” Steve states, “and I’m taking her home.” 

And she can feel Steve’s body shifting, ready to help her move back towards the front of the house. 

“Druggies and drunks.” Hodge lashes out, a laugh following as they turn away, “you sure know how to pick them, Rogers.” 

Steve’s fingers tighten on her, but he doesn’t respond, just helps her walk forward. When they round the corner, she can feel him about to let go but she can’t bear the thought. So she clasps her free hand over his, holding him there. And he glances at her, and his grip tightens, pulling her towards his truck. 

———-

“I’m sorry.” 

He looks over as he stops in front of her house. “For what.” 

“For that guy.” 

“No one should apologize for Gilmore Hodge except himself and his parents.” 

And the way Steve says that makes it clear this isn’t their first altercation. 

“I shouldn’t have drank.” 

“Why did you?” 

“My pride.” 

He nods, and then puts the car into park, shutting it off, “I get that.” And when she doesn’t make any move to leave, he leans back in his seat. 

She looks at him with an eyebrow raise, “you don’t seem very prideful.” 

“Neither do you.” 

She bristles, “I was. Before…” 

“Same.” He says softly, “it’s funny what used to matter. Now I could care less.” 

She waits for him to ask why she’d held on. Instead of letting him go after her encounter, she’d held tighter. But he doesn’t ask. It was a moment of panic. That’s what she keeps telling herself. With Fred, physical contact always seemed like a forced thing. He wasn’t a hugger or a hand holder or a kisser. If they touched it always felt professional. But with Steve it had been so natural. The way her back had pressed against his chest, his hands stabilizing her. The way his grip had been comforting instead of possessive or inhibiting. 

“If you could change anything about yourself.” He asks, picking up their game of Truth. “What would it be?” 

“Letting my pride put me in the way of disgusting guys like Hodge.” He laughs but then waits, knowing that her answer wasn’t the truth. “I suppose I’d like to be able to speak up to my mother. Tell her what I feel. Not be so afraid.” 

“Afraid…?” 

“Of being off schedule. Of not being okay. Of not doing what she wants me to do. Of not being who she needs me to be.” 

“And what is it she needs you to be?” 

“Perfect.” 

“She said that?” 

“No. It’s more like… I know that’s what she wants. Hopes for. I can see how hard she’s trying. How hard she wants to be perfect. So it’s like I should expect the same of myself.” 

Steve’s voice is calm when he responds. “Expect perfection. Hey, you know. That’s a reasonable goal.” He looks at her with a grin and she scoffs, shoving his shoulder playfully. 

“I just know I can always be better.” 

At this Steve’s eyes look away and he sighs, “yeah. I know that feeling.” 

The sadness across his face makes her wonder what the cause is. So she uses her question to brighten the mood. “Okay, my turn. If you could do anything right now what would it be?” 

She expects something silly or exciting but what she doesn’t expect is for him to turn to her and look at her so intensely that it makes her throat go dry. And she doubly doesn’t expect him to say—

“Pass.” 

She blinks, “what?” 

He looks away, his hand tight on the wheel. “Pass.” 

“You’re passing? Why?” 

He clears his throat, “because.” 

She shakes her head in disbelief, “But you know what that means?” 

He nods, “yes. I get to ask you one more question and if you answer it then you win.” 

She smiles, still confused but sort of excited to see what his question will be. “Okay, I’m ready.” 

“No.” 

“No what?” 

“This is the game winning question. I get time to think. Time to formulate the question I’m going to ask.” 

“What! That’s not in the rules.” 

“Well it is now.” He says, stealing her line, “so I get time.” 

She sputters, “but, how much time?”

“However long I need—“

“No way! You can’t drag out the game—“

“I won’t.” He insists I promise. As soon as I have the question I’ll ask it.” 

She frowns, “you can’t take too long.” 

“I won’t—“ he looks about ready to say something else but headlights cut through the windshield and Peggy realizes her mom is home early. 

She immediately gets out of the car and Steve does the same. 

The look her mom is giving her is not a pleasant one as she steps out of her own car. 

“Hello.” Peggy says lightly. 

“Hello, Mrs. Carter.” Steve responds. “Nice to see you again.” 

Peggy watches her mom study his face. The scars like flashing signs in the street lights. “Hello.” She looks at Peggy, “coming inside?” 

“Yes.” 

Her mother nods and walks slowly to the door. Peggy stands for a few more seconds, tempted to draw out their last moments together, and Steve seems in no hurry to disappear. But a stern, “Margaret” gets her moving. She waves to Steve and as she shuts the door, her eyes follow the taillights as he disappears out of sight. 

————-

“ It’s just divine! I can’t wait for you guys to see it!” 

Her aunt is talking so loudly that Peggy can hear it across the kitchen island. 

“Yep.” Her mother responds, eyes on the daily paper and her open laptop. 

“ You could show some enthusiasm—“ 

“Audrey, I don’t have time to discuss your housing project. I have my own. I’ll talk to you later.” 

With a clank, her mom’s phone gets set on the counter and the annoyed expression reminds Peggy why she hasn’t tried to talk to her. 

—————

They’re chopping what seems like a million bell peppers when a thought crosses Peggy’s mind. She looks over at Angie who is bobbing her head to the 80’s music that Winnie has playing. “When was Steve’s accident?” 

Angie looks up, yawning, “huh?” 

Peggy points to her face, “His scars, how long ago was the car accident?” 

Two things happen at once. Angie tilts her head in confusion and Winnie drops a spoon against the metal working surface, making all three of them jump at the loud clatter. 

Angie’s eyes dart to Winnie and then back at her, “what car accident are we talking about?” 

Peggy feels on the wrong foot. “You know…” she gestures to her face again, “the one where he got his scars…” 

Tension is vibrating heavily in the air. And Angie speaks slowly, “Steve told you he got his scars in a car accident?” 

“Yes—“ then she pauses. Thinking back to that conversation, trying to imagine just how it went.. “Well… No I guess he just said ‘accident’ but I assumed…” she trails off at the sharp stuttering intake of breath from Winnie. She looks over. Winnie is holding a shaking hand over her eyes, and Peggy is instantly alarmed, “I, sorry, I—“ she doesn’t even know what she’s apologizing for, just that she must have said something wrong.

Angie’s lips are pursed and then she huffs out angrily, “Winnie, go take a break, okay?” And Peggy is surprised to see the older woman nod and disappear into the house. Peggy looks up helplessly, 

“What did I say?” 

Angie sighs and waves her forward. They walk out the side door and around the house to the porch. Angie sits her on the porch swing that faces a window into Steve’s house.

“Peggy…” Angie starts, looking like she’s trying to figure out how to say whatever it is she’s trying to explain, “he didn’t get those in a car accident.” 

“Okay…” Peggy responds, “how did he get them?” 

At that moment, Steve walks into view, holding a shop towel in one hand and a pencil tucked behind his ear. He turns as if looking for something, checking his pockets and then disappears. 

“Ten bucks says he’s looking for that pencil.” Angie says softly with a bit of dry humor. Then she turns to Peggy, “What has Steve said about Bucky?” 

“Just that he’s his best friend…” She responds slowly, “he didn’t seem to want to go into too much detail.

Another long suffering sigh from Angie. She gently pushes off the porch floor, making the swing start to rock back and forth before she drags her knees up to her chest. They swing silently for a minute, the sun starting to give the earth it’s glow. “Steve and Bucky grew up together. In Brooklyn and here. And they were inseparable forever. Steve and Bucky got each other into trouble and out of trouble. It was just their dynamic. Bucky usually was the one dragging Steve out of fights but they both really took care of each other.” She pauses, rubbing her chin against her knee, her bracelets silent instead of their usual jangle. “Then… We don’t really know how, but Bucky started getting in with the wrong crowd. He bought a knife from this one kid at school and then suddenly he was like… part of their gang. I don’t know. It was so weird to see him that way because he and Steve had always been on similar paths, like…” she looks out across the yard towards Steve’s now empty window, “just like that—“ she snaps, “it was like Bucky was brainwashed .” She frowns. “He stopped hanging around Steve and hung out with those rats. Fucking called themselves ‘the Hydra gang’ or some shitty name like that. Like as if they were these big scary monsters instead of the idiot highschoolers they were.” 

Peggy’s sitting there, staring at the same window, trying to imagine how Steve must have felt. “And Steve?” 

Angie snorts, “he hated it… But at first he didn’t do much of anything to stop it. It wasn’t like Bucky at all but… they were just being stupid and annoying. Steve wouldn’t want to hang around those guys and Bucky would just ignore him. They’d go riding around town on their bikes and heckling people at the gas stations. And so it was just Steve and me for a while. And, you know, Steve never gave up or anything, he kept trying with Bucky but…” Angie shifts, “you seen a picture of what Steve used to look like? Before he went away?” 

Peggy shakes her head, “no.” 

Angie pulls out her phone and finds an old photo. Peggy looks with wide eyes. Angie stands in the middle, clearly the youngest. She’s smiling at the camera and looks similar, just younger and less ‘developed’. A brunette stands to her right, a charming smile and mischievous eyes look back at her. That must be Bucky. 

Then she catches sight of Steve. Shorter and— she practically gasps, so thin . But he’s smiling too and his face is clean. No scars at all. 

“Steve was always so sick as a kid. Couldn’t keep meat on his bones for anything. And his mom being sick only made him more anxious and more…” Angie waves vaguely at the phone, “this was right before Bucky went awol. They were Juniors. And I know Steve seems calm now but man he could cut you with words like none other. He used to go find those guys on their own and try to get them to back off. But they wouldn’t listen to him. So then Bucky’s little pals started to mess with Steve whenever they would cross paths. He started getting beat up and bruised and they even broke his wrist once. We didn’t know at the time it was those guys. We thought it was just kids at school being nasty as usual. Steve never knew when to quit. He already was thin but he got thinner. Just so sick and exhausted all the time.” 

Peggy thinks back to Steve’s worst fear, ‘being sick’ . Now she understands. Angie goes silent and Peggy waits, knowing that can’t be the end. 

“Then the drugs started.” Peggy goes rigid, and Angie sighs, “Bucky’s a smart guy. A good guy. But it’s like I said… he just got dragged down with these idiots so fast. And he just followed them like they were his leaders. I remember seeing Bucky come home so high out of his mind. And Winnie and George were at their wits end. Everyday he was like a zombie. A robot. Everything about Bucky that I remembered loving was just… gone . He started missing school and skipped his graduation. Not that he would have graduated. And Steve kept trying. Over and over. He kept getting in Bucky’s face and asking ‘what the hell he thought he was doing’ and ‘how can he treat his family this way’ but it fell on deaf ears.” 

Peggy wonders briefly if it’s worse to lose someone who’s still physically there. 

“Then Bucky just stopped coming home altogether.” Angie’s eyes are on the wooden porch. “Steve was beside himself. His mom was dying, like… in her last weeks and his best friend was just… not there.” Another sad sigh, “Winnie and George would go out searching for him and if they found him, they’d try to bring him home but he’d just yell at them and tell them to leave him alone. He was over 18 at this point and there was nothing they could do…” 

Steve appears again, the pencil in his hand and a scrap of paper held between his teeth. He grabs at something in a drawer and then disappears, unaware of his audience. 

“And then…” Angie’s fingers trail along the wooden grain of the swing, “Steve’s mom died. Sarah was the best, just… a ray of light. And Bucky didn’t even come to her funeral. Bucky didn’t even know she had died .” 

Peggy has never met this Bucky, but she already has a few choice words for him. 

“And Steve was…” Peggy is surprised to hear the crack in Angie’s voice. “He was so hurt. So broken that his best friend couldn’t stop being an idiot for 30 minutes to come to practically his second mother’s funeral. So Steve went out looking for him.” 

Her stomach drops, already dreading where this story is going. 

“And Steve is nothing if not resourceful. So he finds the group in some abandoned house on one of the canals and he barges in there, still in the suit from his mom’s funeral, and finds Bucky drugged up with his so-called group of friends. And Steve tries to start hauling him up, mad as hell and not taking no for an answer.” 

Her voice gets quieter, the breeze almost taking it away. “That’s when things got violent.” Steve appears again, and this time he briefly faces the window, still unaware of them, but his scars on display. And Peggy feels the dread curling in her gut. “The leader guy, Alex, the biggest bastard of them all, yanks Steve away from Bucky and tosses him out of the house onto the back porch overlooking the canal. Smashing him against the railing. And then the whole group started wailing on him.” Peggy hates the image, especially seeing how thin he was. “There Steve was, grieving for his mom and fighting against 6 guys. Now, Steve was thin, but the guy never knew when to stay down. He kept swinging, kept getting up and fighting back. Until the leader decided that the best way to get Steve to give up was to let Bucky at him.” 

“No—“ Peggy can’t stop as the word escapes her lips unbidden. 

Angie’s voice cracks as she responds. “Yes.” Steve’s gone from the window, but the sight of the scars is fresh in Peggy’s mind. “So, high as a kite and angry and riled up by his asshole friends, Bucky started wailing on Steve, even pulled a knife on him and stabbed it into his shoulder.” Peggy makes a sound of disbelief and Angie nods, “and you wanna know the worst part?” 

No. No, she doesn’t. But she stays quiet. 

“The minute the fight was against Bucky?” She shakes her head, “Steve stopped fighting back.” 

“Why?” She breathes out.

“‘You’re my friend’.” Angie says in a soft tone, “that’s what he said to Bucky as the guy wailed on him.” Her throat is getting tight. It’s getting hard to breathe in. “So Bucky’s beating Steve bloody with his fists and Steve’s just taking it. He doesn’t stay down, but he doesn’t fight back. And eventually, Steve, bleeding and beaten and face in shreds, says one last thing, ‘you either come with me, or you kill me’.”

“WHAT!” The shouted world startles them both and Peggy sucks in a sharp breath, “he said what ?” 

Angie looks at her sadly, “Steve’s always—“ she stops, correcting herself, “he really doesn’t do anything in halves. If he’s going to do something then he believes in it wholeheartedly. And he’d just buried his mother. He was not thinking straight. And he was so fed up with Bucky that he just snapped.” 

“So… Bucky left with him?” 

Angie winces, “no.” 

Peggy’s eyes look to the window, where Steve isn’t. “But…” 

“Bucky shoved Steve against the rotted railing and it cracked, giving way, and he fell. Down into the canal.” 

“You’re lying.” She says, her voice cracking, even though she knows Angie’s not. 

Angie shakes her head, “I wish I was.” 

“What happened?” She asks in a whisper. 

“The house was on stilts, so Steve fell a long way and the idiots didn’t want to be around if anyone called out a disturbance or if the cops came looking. So, they all took off.” 

“Even Bucky?” 

Angie sets her feet on the porch again, pushing them gently, “no. He said he was frozen there, in shock. Staring at Steve as he fell. Watching as he crashed into the water and sunk. Straight down like a rock.” 

Suddenly Peggy realizes that she’s hearing this story from Bucky’s point of view. Bucky had been the one to tell Angie about this. Not Steve. 

“And he said something snapped him out of it. Like watching Steve fall, realizing Steve was going to die, cut through all the haze and all the bullshit and he said it was like waking up from a year plus-long nightmare. So he dove in after Steve, hauled him up to shore and called 911. When the officers got there, Bucky came clean about everything. The drugs, the fights, everything. Even the names of the idiots he’d been with.” Peggy hears Rebecca inside, chattering happily about something. “Except one of the lawyers brought in, was the leader’s uncle. Although we didn’t know that then. And he did not like that Bucky was ratting out his nephew. But Bucky was already going to go to prison. So the lawyer ended up targeting Steve.” 

Peggy reels back, “What!?” 

Angie nods, “the lawyer argued that with Steve’s previous fight record, which admittedly was lengthy, and the trespassing, destruction of property, and violent fist fight he got to add to that list, that Steve needed to face consequences too. And there was this brand new initiative that young offenders not be given easier sentences because of their age. Some shit about scaring them straight.” Her face grows angry. “So, when Steve was back on his feet, he was sent to prison just like Bucky and the other guys. Except not the same sector. The lawyer ensured they were in separate buildings. Which…” 

Angie’s sighs, “Bucky said was a good thing. After that… after realizing what a mess he caused, how much pain he caused… He couldn’t even look Steve in the eye. I was there when Bucky found out that Sarah had passed. It was…” She bites the inside of her cheek, “we were in the little county lock up that same night, trying to contact the Barnes’ lawyer and Rebecca was trying to reach Bucky through the bars, she was crying and his fists were still covered in Steve’s blood and he looked up and asked, ‘why are you all in black?’.” Angie chokes out a disbelieving scoff, “when Rebecca said ‘Steve’s mama’s funeral was today’ I’ve never seen a person break so quickly.” She clears her throat and wipes at her face, “they still haven’t really spoken.” 

Peggy looks at her in surprise, “what do you mean?” 

“Bucky went to prison relatively quickly. He pleaded guilty and got sent fast. Same with the other guys. Steve’s sentence was shorter because he didn’t have any drug charges or drugs in his system. Whereas Bucky and the other guys were loaded. Bucky wouldn’t let him visit. Or if Steve went, he wouldn’t come out. Steve tried every week for a long time. But Bucky wouldn’t see him. Wouldn’t come out, couldn’t face him. And that meant Bucky’s family couldn’t see him either because he only had one time a week that visitors could come… so Steve stopped going… So the Barnes visit Bucky, and then tell Steve how he’s doing.” 

Peggy feels anger on Steve’s behalf. “What does he think keeping Steve’s at arm’s length is doing?” 

Angie just sighs and looks at Peggy sadly, “you’ve seen Steve’s face. Can’t miss ‘em right? Bucky saw Steve the first day they came to visit, Steve had gotten out of prison the week before and he was already back to visit Bucky. But Bucky took one look at the scars and broke down, refusing to talk to them.” 

“But why?”

“Because he knows Steve has already forgiven him. And he can’t forgive himself.” 

“That’s a stupid reason.” 

Angie’s quiet. Then she shrugs, “yeah, we know. Doesn’t change it though. Steve lost hearing, got the scars, doesn’t have full rotation in his left arm, and… the big thing Bucky can’t let go of is the funeral. Not being there for Steve when she died. Hell, not really being there for him when she was sick. He can’t ever make up for that. Or so he says.” 

“You talk to him often?” 

“We write. I’m one of his designated pen-pals.” 

“ He’s my best friend.” Peggy quotes, “Steve called him his best friend.” 

And as if on cue, Steve appears in the window and Angie’s voice is soft, “Steve doesn’t give up on people.” 

——————

They talk a bit longer and Peggy learns that Steve had a lot of time to eat, work out, and receive health-care in prison. So he’d grown and filled out and gotten healthier than he’d ever been before. And how the Barnes had always been like a second set of parents to Steve, but now they treated him like their full-blown son. Winnie had bought the house next to Steve’s and helped ensure Steve kept hold of his own house legally while he was in prison. They hadn’t adopted him, since he was over 18, but they did whatever Steve would let them do to help. 

“Winnie once told me that she doesn’t think Bucky would have ever snapped out of it if not for Steve…” They walk back towards the kitchen in the back and Peggy steps around a pile of gardening tools, “Bucky’s clean now, has been since he went into prison. The withdrawal time was brutal…” she stands quietly, just far enough away from the door so they couldn’t be overheard, “Steve saying it was an accident is…” She shakes her head, “it’s classic Steve. But Winnie is still so broken up about it, that her own son could have done that to Steve. We don’t talk about it much.” 

Peggy nods, “I’m sorry. I didn’t—“ 

“I know.” Angie says quickly, her face softening in a smile, “you’re family now. I’ve seen the change in Steve since you’ve been around. So, thanks.” 

“What?” She asks, feeling caught off guard, “No, I—, we aren’t, we’re just friends.” 

Angie gives her a knowing grin,”well then I’m glad he’s got such a good friend.” 

And before Peggy can address her raised eyebrow, the girl opens the door and disappears back into the kitchen. 

And for a moment Peggy stands, listening to the wind rattle the wind chimes and rustle the grass, and she wonders what else this family has in store for her.

——————

“Pietro, I told you not to drink all that extra punch!” Winnie sighs in exasperation. 

“It was so good!” He responds, bouncing in his seat, “come on, lets go!” 

Peggy laughs, “I’ll just walk home, it’s not that far.” 

“No.” Angie, Steve, and Winnie respond at the same time. 

“This is Pietro’s fault and he needs to learn to have responsibility!” Angie says with a snarky grin as Pietro whines even louder. 

They close the doors and drive to Peggy’s house. The last event had been in her same neighborhood so Winnie had offered to pick her up and drop her off. When they slid to a stop in front of her driveway, she got an idea. Her mother wasn’t supposed to be home until past midnight. Driving back from a development a few hours away.  “You could use the bathroom at my house…” She offers, suddenly feeling awkward about having them in her large, empty home. 

“Really?” He asks, already opening the door and bolting out, “thank you!” 

Wanda’s sighing in the backseat but Peggy sees Winnie shift. “If anyone needs to go they’re welcome to. It’s not a problem.” 

“I just wanna see your house!’ Angie says with a laugh, “I never got to.” 

Soon they’re all out of the van and walking into her house. 

She hears their voices bounce off the walls, filling the usually empty space and making it feel full and alive. She’s briefly self-conscious about how big and grand everything is. While the Barnes weren’t struggling like they used to, it was still quite a gap. But no one seemed to care. 

“Whoa!” She hears Pietro call on his way back from the first floor bathroom, “look at the size of this TV!” 

“Stop creeping around!” She hears Winnie say with a laugh. 

“You guys can watch something.” She offers, suddenly not wanting to be alone in the house, “if you want?” 

“Really!” Pietro asks, launching himself onto the big sofa. 

“Oh no—“ Winnie says with a huff, “we couldn’t.” 

“George and Rebecca won’t be home for another hour or more.” Angie prods, “come on, we can take a break!” 

Steve just watches in amusement, still standing, with his hands in his pockets.

Wanda slinks over and plops down by her brother. Peggy starts up the TV and hands Angie the remote. They start flicking through channels and chattering about what the options are. 

Peggy looks around. Trying to convince herself that even if her mother was home that she could do this. Could invite in friends and have fun for an evening. But honestly… ever since her mother had gotten on her about priorities, she’d stopped talking about her job catering or any of the people she’d gotten close to. 

“Snacks?” She asks, “or drinks?” 

Pietro’s nodding yes and Wanda gives her a rare small smile and Angie pops up, “I’ll help! I wanna see more of this crazy house.” 

They walk towards the kitchen, Angie taking in the sheer size of things and commenting how cool it all is. Steve follows them and she gets out some chips and drinks, getting ready to carry it to the TV room when the door to the garage opens up. 

And there’s her mother. 

It’s silent for a moment, and Peggy can’t remember any words. 

“Margaret.” Her mom says slowly. 

“Mum. Hi.” Too quick. She’s breathing too fast. “How was the trip?” 

Her mother’s voice is calm, the businesswoman voice she uses when she talks to difficult clients, “fine.” 

And Peggy knows she needs to speak. To explain their presence. “Pietro needed to use the restroom after our event and I offered for them to use our bathroom, and then offered for them to stay for a bit.” 

The blink of her mother’s eyes inform her that even though she’s 50% of the living household, she does not have the ability to invite people her mother doesn’t want over. 

“I have something in my car.” Her mother says calmly, “can you help me unload it?” 

“Sure.” She responds, setting the drinks down and following her mother. 

“Margaret.” Her mother starts as the door closes behind them. 

“Mum, I promise, this is the first time this has ever happened. I do not invite people here behind your back.” Suddenly she feels her courage getting stronger. These were nice people, good people. “And I thought the house was going to be empty and I didn’t really want to be alone. So I invited them in.” 

“We have one of the biggest events of the year tomorrow, and I just do not feel like you’re focused. Are you focused on what is really important?” 

“I know what’s important.” Peggy responds quickly, “and I haven’t forgotten about the booth.” She had forgotten actually, but she wasn't about to admit that.” I’ll be there.” 

“5p.m. Sharp.”

“I’ll be there .” She responds. A bit of her previous fire in her tone. Her mother looks up sharply. 

“What happened to that boy’s face?” 

Peggy leans back, surprised at the bluntness in which her mother asks. “He was in an accident.” It’s not true. But she for sure isn’t going to go into the story now. 

“That’s too bad.” Her mother responds, looking down at her computer.

“Why?” 

“He could be so handsome.” 

And Peggy can’t even formulate a response. To her, and she knows countless others, the scars don’t have any adverse effect on Steve’s handsomeness. She’s seen him without them, and he is just as handsome now as he was then. Possibly more attractive because of them. But of course her mother wouldn’t see it that way. Someone’s broken parts on display? Not acceptable. Not allowed. Not attractive. 

“I should get out there.” Peggy finally says, “I don’t want to be rude.” 

“I want them gone soon. Do you understand?” 

“Yes.” 

—————

Angie and Steve are trying to look nonchalant as they wait for her in the kitchen. “What’s this?” Angie asks, pointing to a stack of pictures her Aunt had left for them during her last visit. 

“The family beach house. My aunt is renovating it.” 

“Oh, cool!” Angie says, “I love the beach!” 

“We kind of live on the beach, Ang.” Steve says with a grin. 

She groans, “I mean, it’s not really the beachiest area.” She corrects. “And we don’t have that beach vibe. Just kinda medium town vibe.” 

They laugh and then Angie points, “Steve is that—“ he finger ghosts over one of the pieces her Aunt had purchased from Steve at the store. 

“Yeah,” he says, leaning against the counter, “her aunt bought a few at the store, came across my table.” 

“What!” Angie smiles and then looks at Peggy, “really?” 

“Yeah, we ran into each other and my aunt really took to some of his pieces. She’s a real art nut, so they had lots to discuss.” She grins at Steve who smiles and rolls his eyes. 

“ANGIE!” Pietro yells loudly, only to be followed by an “ow!” And then Winnie whispering in a loud voice. 

“Don’t yell in other people’s homes!” 

Pietro makes a sad noise and then calls again, softer, “Angie! That guy you think is cute is in that commercial!” 

Angie tilts her head and waggles her eyebrows, “I’ll be right back!” 

They watch her walk away and then it’s just them. She looks at him and he stares softly back. He doesn’t know she knows the truth. “I’m still waiting.” Peggy says suddenly. “For your question.” 

He narrows his eyes, “I said that I would ask when the question is ready.” 

“Thta’s not fair! I’m ready now.” 

“Everytime you ask me about it, I’m going to delay it even further.” 

She scoffs in mock disbelief, “you can’t do that! That’s not in the rules.” 

“Puh-lease, Peggy Carter does not care about the rules.” He says with a grin. And this absurd statement makes her laugh. Full and free for the first time in a long time. 

“That’s funny coming from you, prison boy.” He thinks she still doens’t know the full reason for why he went to prison, but the joke lands all the same. 

His jaw drops and then he laughs too, full and free, just like hers, “hey, I’ll have you know I learned a lot in prison.” 

She laughs again, “so I—“ 

“Margaret.” 

They both turn towards the sound. Her mother standing there with a very thin lipped expression. Clearly unhappy. “Can you hand me that folder over there?” 

She does and Steve takes that as his cue, walking towards the sounds of the TV. 

“Did that boy just say he was in prison?” 

Peggy’s heart clenches, ‘yes, but it wasn’t—“ 

“And he’s the one you were outside with the other night?” 

“What?” 

“When I got home, you were alone with him in his car?”

“Yes, but—“ 

“They need to leave. As soon as whatever they’re watching is over. I want them gone. And maybe we need to revisit your job status with them.” 

“Mum, I—“ 

“Margaret. Don’t.” 

“You can’t just—“ 

“I can. I’m your mother.”

“But—“ 

“End of discussion.” And then her mother turns around and walks away. Not allowing anything else to be said. Like usual. 

———-

The group is getting up to go when her mother reappears. A fake smile on her face, “Oh, Margaret, I forgot to say, Fred is coming into town this weekend.” 

She freezes, “He is?” 

“Yes, his uncle has taken ill, so he’s coming back to visit. He’ll be here for the event tomorrow. He wants to see you. He said he’ll see you at the library.” 

And Peggy is vitally certain that this is being said out loud, in public, in front of the group on purpose. To ensure Peggy is reminded of where her priorities should lie. And the guy who should be her focus. 

“Okay.” Is all she can find to respond. 

—————-

By the time she gets back in the house from saying goodbye, her mother is in her bedroom with the door closed. 

So Peggy gets ready for bed. 

————

There’s a note on the fridge when she wakes. 

I know you may think I’m being harsh. But falling into the wrong crowd can have consequences. You need to be smart about who you hang around with and how you conduct yourself. 

Peggy stares at the note, not even a ‘mum’ or a ‘love you, mum’. Just a judgement. 

And Peggy knows her mother is suffering. Grieving and hurting in her own way. But she’s finding it harder and harder to follow her example. Stalwart and unwavering haven’t helped. They have. Steve has… 

She leaves the note where her mother put it and she grabs her keys walking out the door. 

————

It was clear that Dottie and Whitney were aware of Fred’s impending arrival as they chatter on and on about what updates they’ve made and how efficient they’ve been. Peggy sits quietly and does her menial tasks. 

And she thinks. 

What is it exactly that she’s going to say to Fred? How can she explain that when he’d broken things off she’d been so concerned with how to fix it. How to appear fine. 

And now… 

Did she even care? 

The clock is ticking slowly and she hears the door open. She doesn’t look, can’t look to see him. Only to hear Dottie and Whitney gasp. So she turns, and there he is. 

Steve. 

And instead of being nervous and anxious about Fred, she feels herself relax. It’s Steve. 

He looks around and then catches her eye and starts over, walking straight towards her. 

Dottie and Whitney shuffle and adjust, trying to get their chairs angled just so to intercept him. 

But he heads for her. 

“Hey.” He says with a smile. 

“Hello.” She responds with a smile back. 

“So, I’m here—“ 

“Excuse me?” Dottie interjects, her voice clear and cutting. Steve turns, looking at her, his scars moving with the eyebrow raise. “We can help you over here. Did you have a question?” 

“Yes.” He says slowly, seeming confused at their intrusion. “But—“ 

“I can answer it.” Whitney says. 

“It’s fine.” Steve says, seeming briefly amused before turning back to Peggy. 

“We’re more knowledgeable, so you can just ask us.” Dottie tries again. 

And to Steve’s credit he just looks at them and blinks, “Really, it’s fine.” 

And Peggy watches the volley as they try again. 

“She’s just a trainee. She won’t know the answer.” Dottie says snappishly, standing and walking over to behind Peggy, leaning over her and sort of causing Peggy to hunch forward as her space is invaded. 

And Peggy watches as the briefest annoyance crosses his face. “You know… I think she’ll know it.” 

And Whitney joins the fray, standing on her other side. Both of them like gargoyles leering over her. “She won’t.” Whitney insists. “Ask me.” 

And Steve’s face shifts, and Peggy has to force herself not to suck in a sharp breath of air as he straightens, seeming taller than she remembers and he stares at them both, his eyes flickering between them, and one of his eyebrows raises, making him look positively more handsome than she’d ever seen him. His arms across his chest and he leans back, “Okay.” He points at them, “yesterday, when the van was being packed, where were the corkscrews stored?” 

Both Dottie and Whitney look stunned. They stand there awkwardly, mouths slightly apart as if they might be able to speak the answer in existence. And they can’t see it, because they’re behind her, but Peggy is smiling. Widely and for real. 

Steve’s eyes flick between them, settling on Dottie, “do you know?” She stays silent, and he looks to Whitney, “do you?” They both slowly shake their heads and Steve’s smile is tight, “better ask the trainee then, huh? Carter?” 

And the way he calls her last name. As if summoning her. As if they’re good friends. Close enough to somehow be on a last name basis. He doesn’t make it sound unfamiliar, he makes it sound like she’s known. That he knows her. Carter. “Yeah, Rogers?” She says, feeling suddenly bold and brave. Because she does in fact know the answer to his question. 

His grin is immediate, drawing her in, and she hears the quiet gasp of the two girls as his face shifts into something magnificent to look at when he smiles. “You know the answer to my question?” 

“The corkscrews were placed, by Pietro, in the same serving tray as the can openers and towels, which were in the van on the second cart back. I advised against it.” 

He chuckles, and nods, “great. I’ll let Winnie know.” 

Dottie and Whitney slowly slink back towards their chairs as Steve leans forward. “Friends of yours?” 

“I wouldn’t describe them that way, no.” 

He tries to hold in a grin, “oh really? You’re sure? They seem like real nice people.” 

She snorts and then covers her mouth. Dottie and Whitney throw glares their way but Steve doesn’t even seem to notice. 

“So why the need for corkscrews?” 

“Typical chaos.” He responds, “one of her refrigerators broke down last night so we’re having to remake all the dressings and stuff while Winnie figures out how we’re going to work this job since Pietro and Wanda are at lessons. Then Winnie’s calling me because it’s an open bar but we can’t find the corkscrews and that I should come here and ask you because you helped Pietro pack up the van and he doesn't have his phone on him.” Then she sees his eyes get a bit more hesitant, “how’s the boyfriend?” 

“He hasn’t shown yet.” She answers, her eyes glancing at the two who were trying to subtly listen. 

“Ah…” Then he taps on the wooden desk that separates them, “well, at least you don’t have to serve a bunch of drunk Americans.” 

And for that moment Peggy is sad that she can’t. And then she realizes that she can. 

“Do you guys need help?” He looks up at her, and she sees a glimmer of something that sends a thrill down her spine. “Hey ladies?” She says, turning towards Dottie and Whitney, “I think I’m going to take off.” 

“What?” Dottie asks, annoyance flashing across her face, “you shift doesn’t end for over another hour.” 

“I don’t think you need my help, do you?” Peggy stood, grabbing her small bag and looking around, as if there might be something else from this horrid place she might need to grab. But there isn’t. She wants nothing from here. 

“If you leave,” Whitney hisses, “you can’t come back. You’ll be fired.” 

Peggy shakes her head, “you say that like that’s a bad thing.” Then she goes to leave, but their chairs are blocking her way out of the desk. 

So she turns to Steve and without warning tosses him her bag. He catches it, his reflexes quick. And then she’s using a move her father taught her many years ago and deftly jumping over the desk and landing gracefully on the floor. Barely making a sound. 

She looks at Steve who is staring at her wide-eyed before his mouth turns up in a grin and he nods, “excellent form.” 

“Thank you.” She says primly before grabbing her bag from him and slinging it over her shoulder. 

“What has gotten into you?” Dottie hisses, “have you gone insane?” 

And Peggy looks at her only for a brief moment before shaking her head and walking towards the door, Steve holding it open for her as she walks out. 

Quite the opposite, she thinks. 

—————

They’re mixing up coleslaw and she keeps catching Steve’s eyes on her, making her cheeks burn and chest heat. His expression of awe hasn’t faded.

“Stop.” She insists.

“I can’t help it.” He says with a laugh, “I’m so impressed. I just keep picture the way you leapt over that desk like a jungle cat. So graceful. Now I get what that girl said about you fighting. Totally impressive by the way.” 

“No, it was crazy.” She tries to correct. 

“It was kick-ass.” He says, scooping carrot shreds into the bowl, “totally bad-ass. Like I was in a movie. You’re the main character by the way—“ 

“Steve.” Peggy says laughing, trying not to picture the way Fred’s face would screw up in confusion as Dottie and Whitney tell him the story. “It was nothing.” 

“Maybe to you.” He huffs, “that’s some grade A courage. I’ve never been that brave.” 

And she knows this is a lie. Facing a best friend to try to save them from themselves is brave. But she just shrugs. 

“Guess what?” Winnie calls to them as she walks into the kitchen, “turns out they don’t even need the baked beans, or the gluten free buns, which means….” She gets a suspicious look on her face, “that everything is fine…” 

“You say that like that’s a bad thing.” Steve says, throwing a smirk at Peggy who scrunches her nose at him. 

“It’s good, it’s just… strange.” 

And it kept getting stranger. Instead of their usual chaos. Things kept going right. Enough this, plenty of that. Room for this. Something that was thought to be lost was found moments later. And Winnie kept getting more and more worried. But Peggy and Steve and Angie (who showed up right on time for once) kept trying to reassure her that this is a good thing. 

As they wait around for the event to start, which again, has never happened before, Winnie sidles up to her, cups in hand. “Heard you quit your job at the library?” 

Peggy sends a glare towards Steve but he just shrugs, “you can’t be mad at me. It was too badass not to share.” 

Peggy rolls her eyes and gets quiet, “yeah… I did.” 

“Well, I’m glad.” 

“You are?”

“From what I heard you say you were pretty miserable there.” 

“Yeah.. Just… not looking forward to telling my mum.” She glares at Steve, “maybe you can tell her too, since you’re so set on spreading the news.” 

“Hard pass.” Steve says with a grin, disappearing out the door. 

“Why would she be mad?” Winnie asks, “wouldn’t she be happy for you?” 

“Why would she be happy?” 

“So you’re not unhappy…” Winnie says slowly, as if it’s obvious. And Peggy gets that reasoning. She does. But that’s not Amanda Carter. 

“That’s not how she’ll see it.” 

“How will she see it?” 

“That I’m acting out. Unfocused. Unmotivated.” 

“And are you those things?” 

“No.” 

“So…?” 

“It’s just…” and Peggy hears the words exit her lips quietly, “it’s out of her control. And she won’t like that.” 

Winnie looks over, her hands slowly folding napkins into delicate shapes. “Your mom likes to be in control?” 

“She likes to ensure everything is by the book. We follow the schedule. No surprises. Nothing she hasn’t accounted for. Me quitting the library is unaccounted for.” 

She can practically hear Winnie thinking. “Was she always this way?” 

“No.” 

And in that one word is every explanation. Every moment of Peggy’s existence that has shifted and changed since Michael, since her dad. She lost a brother and a father. Her mother lost a husband and a son. Two totally different losses. Still searing and undealt with. 

“And you think she likes to follow the schedule because…?”

“Because then she’s in control.” 

“Ah.” 

And she feels Winnie’s arm come around her shoulder and pull her in tightly. And as a mother who had to watch as her own son chose to fall apart, maybe she understands what it’s like to not have all the answers. To not be in control and still come out okay on the other side. And for some reason that comforts Peggy. 

———

As the evening continues, it gets worse. 

In that it’s perfect. 

Nothing goes wrong. And in the moment where something appears to be going wrong, it gets fixed. No ice? Nope, it’s in the other freezer. No napkins left? The venue has napkins in spades. Serving trays were forgotten? No, they were placed in the front seat instead of the carts. 

And so on. Leaving them feeling off-kilter. 

“I wish something would go wrong.” Winnie says as she walks back in to get another tray. “Just… to make me feel better.” 

And Peggy sort of gets it. When you’re used to chaos, you expect it. And the absence is frightening. Like a house that’s too quiet. 

And the fact that nothing went wrong meant Peggy had time to think about everything that could go wrong. She kept an eye on the clock, knowing she would have to leave at some point for the July 4th event. But her thoughts were plagued with how she was going to get that look from her mom. 

“Hello, earth to Carter.” She blinks up to see Steve there, a box of bottles in his hands. “You were zoned out there. You good?” 

She groans, “Just worried.” 

His mouth shifts to the side, as he adjusts the box in his grip, “about Fred?” 

And Fred hadn’t even crossed her mind. “Oh no.” She says with a humorless chuckle, “I haven’t even thought about him. He’s so far out of my mind right now. It’s like he doesn’t even matter because…” And it hits her… she’s done. “We’re over.” Which, he probably wouldn’t want her back anyways. Not after her behavior at the library and clear disregard for its rules and expectations. And she was even less perfect now than when he left. And that’s fine by her. “It’s over.” She looks up to Steve and smiles, “we’re over. Wow. It feels incredibly freeing to say that. Fred and I are over. We have been since the break. Done.” She smiles at him again, feeling relieved.  

Steve’s staring at her and his mouth is about to form a word when Angie bursts in, “we need those bottles, Steve!”

He looks torn, wanting to stay and say something, but being summoned. “I have your question.” He says suddenly, “I want to ask you. When we’re done. After your thing tonight, okay?” 

And she smiles, “okay.” 

———

They’re packing up, and Peggy’s getting her stuff into her car when she hears the shriek. 

“OH NO!”

She and Angie and Steve turn towards the driveway where Winnie is walking towards the car, “Angie I told you to remind me!” 

Angie tilts her head, “remind you of what?” 

“The FOURTH!” 

Angie gasps and they both turn to Steve, who winces, “guys, it’s fine.” 

“It’s NOT FINE!” They both shout. Then Winnie walks over and wraps him in a hug. 

“Are you trying to make me cry?”

“Winnie, it’s no big deal.” 

“You’re 20 today!” She shouts, “it’s a HUGE deal! I ordered that cake from that bakery and everything! And I can’t believe I forgot!” 

Peggy takes a step forward, “Wait what!?” 

Angie turns to her, “It’s Steve’s birthday today.” 

She looks up at him, “why didn’t you say anything?” 

He shrugs, looking completely unphased, “it’s just another day.” 

“No, it’s not!” Winnie says with a snap, “and every year it gets overshadowed by whatever event we throw. Ugh! I’m sick of it, next year I’m not taking any engagements on the fourth—“ 

“What!” Steve says, “no way, you make double for the holiday. It’s just a birthday, Winnie. And technically everybody in America is celebrating my birthday. So, it’s all good.” 

“We have to do something.” Angie says, “where do you wanna go eat?” 

“Angie, we just ate. And Peggy’s got her mom’s thing she’s got to go to.” 

Peggy stops. Oh yeah. That. 

“I mean…” She says slowly, “In for a penny. In for a pound. What do you say to some french toast and aliens?” 

His eyes light up at the mention and he nods, “I guess I could find room for that.” 

Angie and Winnie nod, and they wave her into the van. She stuffs her keys in her pocket and gets in, sitting beside Steve. 

———

She’s sitting beside him in the booth and she has to constantly remind herself that he’s dating someone. That Natasha exists. 

But it’s difficult when he’s listening to Angie describe her and Sam’s last date and his leg is touching hers. His elbow is on the table and she can see the scar that travels from his neckline to his jaw. And she really wants to trace it with her finger. 

Then she looks at the clock. 6:15p.m. She’s officially majorly late. 

So she gets out her phone and slides out of the seat. 

“Hey mum,” she starts, unsure how to proceed, some of her courage leaving her, “I’m sorry I’m late. I’ll be on my way soo. I’m not near my car, so I can’t drive there. I’ll be there soon. Sorry.” 

Then she hangs up. And as they pay the bill, she tries to hold onto the feeling of freedom she’d felt when she’d made the decision to not follow her mother’s order of 5pm sharp. 

But now dread is creeping in. 

The van ride is quiet, and then she walks to her car. Steve walks with her, Angie and Winnie still in the van. “Thanks for coming to my birthday party.” He says softly, trying to bring in some humor to the obviously tense air. 

“Yeah…” Peggy responds, her voice taught. 

“You okay?”

“Not really?” 

“Why?” 

“She’s going to hate me.” 

“Your mom?” 

“Yes.” 

“No, she won’t. Just… try talking to her.” 

“She won’t listen.” 

“Won’t know till you try.” 

“She’ll hate me.” 

“Why?” 

“Because I’m not there. Because I’m not choosing what she wants. Because I’m not perfect.” She takes a deep breath, and then she speaks the truth for the first time in a long time, “and because I’m not fine.” Her voice cracks on the last word and suddenly she’s crying. She’s standing on a dark street, the lamps making the white lines on the road glow, and she’s crying. She hides her face in her hands, in disbelief that she’s letting him see this weakness. 

But then his arms wrap around her. Firm and comforting and holding her tightly. It makes her cry harder. He waits, to see if she’ll pull away, but when she doesn’t, he pulls her tighter, resting his cheek on the top of her head and trying to comfort her. She leans against his shoulder and she feels him take a deep breath. 

She’s not sure how long they stand there, but eventually she pulls away and wipes at her face. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.” He looks at her, “you want me to drive you?” 

“No.” She says, “I need to do it myself.” 

“Okay.” 

“You going to ask me that question now?” 

He laughs, stepping back, “No, I’m going to wait till you talk to your mom. I want you to be clear of mind.” 

She shakes her head, “alright, but you’re being cryptic.” 

She gets in her car and waves back as Angie and Winnie wave their goodbyes. 

—————

The event seems to be lively as she arrives, the night winding down towards the end as the fireworks blast across the sky. She walks through the crowds and the booths and finds her mother standing near one of the lead architects. 

Peggy walks over and stops beside them. Her mother looks over, sees her, and turns back towards the architect, finishing whatever she was saying. Then as the architect walks away, her mother turns to her. 

“Mum,” Peggy starts, “did you get my message?” 

And as her mother steps forward, a firework blasts and Peggy can see the fury in her mother’s eyes. “Get to the house, now.” 

“Mum, I—“ 

“Margaret Elizabeth Carter. Get to the house. Get in bed. And stay there until I come to speak to you.” 

“What? But mum—“ 

“I am not—“ her mother hisses, “going to discuss this now.” 

“I left a message—“ 

“Get. Home.” 

And there is no arguing. Peggy knows if she does, it will only make things worse. So she steps back and walks the block to her home. The house is deadly silent as she enters and she follows her mother’s instructions. She gets ready and goes to bed. 

————

The next morning. Peggy slowly descends the stairs and sees that her mother’s office door is open. 

So she bites the bullet and knocks. 

“Come in.” 

She does. 

“Sit.” 

She does.

“Margaret.” The tone is icy and harsh. “I don’t know what I’m going to do with you.” 

“Mum, I’m sorry I was late.” 

“Just late?!” Her mother intones deeply, standing and pressing her palms against the desk. “This is not just about yesterday. This is about the pattern of disappointing and frightening behavior I’ve been seeing from you.” 

“What?” 

“Hanging out with criminals? Quitting the library? Fred was looking for you and he came to me, wondering what had happened! And I had no explanation. You know how much that displeases me. And then you just blatantly disregard the schedule. You were supposed to be there at 5 sharp! We have a plan, Margaret! We have a schedule. We respect the schedule and it respects us. What about that have you forgotten?” 

And all that bravery she’d felt the night before vanishes. The face of her mother’s anger and now Peggy can see it. Fear. Her mother’s afraid. She’s already lost a husband and a son. Now she’s losing her daughter. Or so she thinks. So she’s reacting this way. 

And Peggy can’t find the words to explain that that’s not what’s happening. 

“There are changes.” Her mother says. “No more catering. You quit.” 

“Mum—“ 

“If I can’t count on you to make the right choices then I will make them for you. Do you understand?” 

No. 

But she stays silent. 

“You’ve quit the library. So now you will work for me. At the model home. From 9-5p.m. every day. Including weekends.” 

“But—“ 

“Nothing. But nothing.” She snaps, “and I don’t want you hanging around with those catering people. At all.” 

“What—“ 

“All of these problems—“ she says, gesturing to Peggy as if she was one big issue, “started when you took that catering job. They’re obviously not good influences.” 

She can’t think of anything to say. It’s completely unfair. And it’s not even… real. This isn’t real. Catering was real. Angie was real. Steve was real. Her life in this house has been a silent tomb of unearthed grief. And she’s expected to bury herself back in it. 

“I don’t want you out at night. If you’re going to be out after 8, I want to know where you’re going and for how long.” 

“What! I’m 18-–“ 

“And I’m still in control of this house.” Her mother snaps. “Don’t test me. I could make it anytime after 5.” 

She’s not a child. And yet she feels so deeply vulnerable and not in control. Just like she did right after the crash. 

“Do you understand?” 

Peggy nods. 

“Do you understand?”

She looks up, and realizes her mother wants a verbal answer. “Yes, ma’am.” 

Her mother narrows her eyes. “Good. I’ll see you at the model home at 9.”

Peggy sits there. Eyes unfocused, and mind reeling. 

At 10:11a.m she feels her phone buzz. 

It’s Steve. 

How did it go?

And how exactly is she supposed to explain that he’s been cut from her life? That the last month of getting to know him were the best days she’s had since her dad. But he’s not hers. He’s Natasha’s. And she could rebel against her mother’s orders. But the fight is gone. Just like it was 18 months ago. 

She turns her phone off and walks to her room to change for work. 

—————-

Two days later Angie calls. 

She doesn't answer. But she does send a text. Knowing they deserve some sort of explanation. 

Grounded. Till the end of summer. No friends. No work other than with my mom. 

Yikes… Angie responds, that’s harsh. You tell Steve?

No… can you? Thanks.

Then she turns her phone over and lays on her bed, staring at her blank wall. 

————

The next day she gets a text from Steve.

Angie filled me in. Are you doing okay? Glad it’s not forever. 

And this time she does text back. 

Might as well be. 

Let me know what I can do. To help make your summer less miserable. 

Just him offering that bites at her heart. He’s not done anything that would be inappropriate for a guy who was dating someone else. All they’ve done is talk really. He comforted her, and he helped her with that creep, Hodge— 

Druggies and Drunks, you sure know how to pick ‘em, Rogers.

Hodge’s words now make perfect sense. Bucky and her. Steve saving them both from themselves. 

But she knows she won’t take him up on his offer. He’s been getting busy. And somehow she knows that through her aunt Audrey. 

She’d called, updating them about the house and then when her mother had called it quits Audrey had kept Peggy on the phone. “I contacted that handsome young man, the artist? The one with the stained glass. Steve, right?” 

“Yes…” 

“He said he’s happy to do more pieces but it might be a bit longer. Apparently he’s gotten a lot of business recently.” 

Her heart is glad for him, and she’s sad that she can’t celebrate and say ‘I told you so’. 

“I told him not to worry! I know he’s going to be big in the art or design sector, so I’m patient to get these beautiful pieces whenever he can manage!” 

“That’s great, Aunt Audrey, I’m glad.” 

“How’s your summer?” 

And with a sigh Peggy feels herself fall right back to where she started. 

“It’s fine.” 

—————

July creeps towards the middle and Peggy’s miserable. 

Monotony day in and day out keep her busy. But her mind wanders. Running over the game of Truth she and Steve had shared and still hadn’t finished. If they ever would. 

Angie is official with Sam. And so even her texts are less and less. But they never stop, and Peggy appreciates that. Steve had been the last to text, and she hadn’t responded. It hurt too much. Knowing that while she is trapped in the circle of monotony and misery that the world is continuing to spin without her. B&R Catering was going strong. 

Winnie had offered to try to talk to her mother but Peggy had vehemently refused. That would get them nowhere. 

After a long day of explaining different counter tops to potential buyers, she comes home ready to just go to bed, only to see an email in her inbox. 

From Fred. 

Margaret, 

I was sorry I didn’t get to see you during my brief visit. My uncle has suffered a heart attack and you know that he and I are very close. Which… has led me to perhaps underestimate what you went through. I worry that I did not have full knowledge of your pain, and I fear I am soon to know it. Or part of it. And for that… I want to apologize for being harsh this summer about the library. I wish I could understand your reasoning for why you quit. I felt like the story I received was perhaps exaggerated. I can’t imagine you jumping over a desk. 

    So, if you’re willing, I’d like to hear your point of view. And… I’d like to speak to you. I know I was the one who suggested we take a break, but I feel like we have each gained a new perspective and could learn from each other. If not… At least I hope we can stay in contact. I hope to hear from you soon. 

-Fred

“No.” 

The word is so vehement and immediate that it startles her quiet room. With just that email her world could flip back to exactly as it was. Before Angie. Before Steve. 

Peggy had thought that surely her theatrics would convince Fred they weren’t meant for each other. But now he’s speaking like they could have a chance again. 

She was already back to being her mother’s perfect daughter. Now she could be Fred’s girlfriend again. And the first half of this summer would just… cease to exist. 

So she breaks the rules. 

“Mum?” 

“Yes?” 

“I am going out to grab a coffee and visit the bookstore for a SAT study guide on the proofs. I feel like I can’t grasp that concept. Is that alright?” 

Her mother studies her momentarily but nods, “yes.” 

She’s been perfectly behaved since her punishment began, so her mother has no reason to doubt her now. 

She grabs her keys and drives to Winnie’s. 

———-

“Hello?” Wanda looks up from her phone on the porch swing. “Hey.” Peggy tries, “is Winnie or Angie here?” 

“No.” 

“Is Angie coming back soon?” 

“Sam.” 

Peggy curses, so that’s a no. “Winnie?” 

“Rebecca’s recital.”

“Oh right.” Not that she’d been in the loop enough to know that. She wants to talk to someone. And she’s not going to get that from Wanda. So she says goodbye and heads off the porch. She’s heading down the drive when she sees him in his Bronco. 

They pull off the side and she watches as he gets out. 

“Thought you were grounded?” He says with a smile. 

“I am. I’m out buying SAT prep books.” 

“I see.” 

“I just needed to get out. Talk to someone about something other than houses you know?” 

He nods, “yeah, totally. I get that.” 

He doesn’t seem to offer more so she takes a leap, “are you feeling hungry? I have some cash from tips still. French Toast? My treat?” 

And for the very first time ever she watches as Steve gets nervous. He shifts and shoves his hands in his pockets, “Oh, uh… I have to meet with uh, a client, and—” he swallows thickly, “I can’t. I’m sorry. I can’t be late to this appointment. But—“ 

“Right,” She says quickly, feeling the sting of rejection, “of course, this was dumb.” She rubs at her face and steps back, closing the gap to her car door. “I was stupid to even risk this. I need to get home.” 

“Peggy, wait—“ 

“No, you know, I’m so sorry for springing on you. Of course you’re busy.” And then she can’t seem to shut herself up. “And I have stuff to do. This was stupid, I need to get home, answer Fred and just focus on studying.” 

Steve’s face shifts, “Fred?” 

“Yeah, he emailed, wants to talk. Maybe get back together.” She must be imagining the hurt on his face, because he’s taken. He can’t be annoyed because she wants to fix her own relationship. 

“Is that…” he asks slowly, “what you want? To get back together with him?” 

“I don’t know. Maybe. He was good for me.” The lie falls easily from her lips. As if she is telling someone she is fine. She’s used to this feeling. The lying to pretend everything is fine when it most definitely is not. “Probably will get back together.” She won’t. Fred and her are over. He doesn’t respond, looking at her quietly, “Alright, I should go.” 

He just looks at the ground and nods, “oh. Okay.” And then she’s leaving, slamming the door and driving away.

—————-

It takes her only 10 minutes to change her mind. 

Why can’t she just speak the truth. She’s got so much practice with Steve. It should be easy. But the moment he’d shown any hesitation, that insecurity had come flooding back, and she’d lashed out. Just like her mother. 

So she turns around at a gas station and heads towards the Sci-Fi diner. Having a gut feeling he might be there. It doesn’t matter if he didn’t want to hang out with her, if he was busy. She had no right to be rude like she had been. No matter what, Steve, and the entire catering crew for that matter, were so important to her. She couldn’t lose them just because she got her feelings hurt. By her own fault too. 

So she drives to the diner and sees his car, instantly relaxing and taking a deep breath. She can do this. She can tell him how important he is. She hopes the client won’t be too mad at her for interrupting. 

The door makes a quiet whoosh as she opens it. And she turns, starting to walk down the line of booths when she stops. 

She sees the back of Steve’s head. And he’s facing someone. 

A beautiful— no, gorgeous red-head. 

The girl looks serious, but there’s a twinkle in her eye and then she’s laughing at something Steve says. The red-head moves and lays a hand on Steve’s hand before leaning forward and smiling softly at him. 

And it’s like she’s never off that road. Except this time she’s the deer in the headlights. Frozen in place staring at the thing that could hurt it the most. 

What the hell was she thinking?! He has a girlfriend. Not that she’d come to confess her love or anything, but he… She feels the world tilt at the fact that Steve had lied. He wasn’t meeting a client. He was meeting Natasha. Peggy’s never seen a girl who looks more like a Natasha then that girl right there. 

And he’d felt the need to hide that fact. 

She steps back, out the door and down to her car in record time. She drives slowly, the car silent, no music. 

And when she gets home, in plenty of time before she’d told her mother she’d be back, she walks up the stairs, takes off her shoes, and crawls into bed. 

—————-

She stops fighting, or sulking, or acting any other way other than fine. 

She goes to work. She does her job. She comes home. They eat dinner. She watches her mother fret about the event. And then she sleeps. 

Wash, rinse, repeat.

————

Steve had texted and even called. But now she knows the truth. That they’d been ships in the night. Maybe he was the right person wrong time, or whatever the saying is. But she can’t stomach talking to him again. She wouldn’t know what to say. So she doesn't answer. And eventually the texts stop.

————

Margaret, 

I haven’t heard from you, and I understand. I’ll be stopping by your mother’s event and I hope to see you there. I hope you’ve been well. 

Fred

——————

The frantic pace at which their house becomes grand central is dizzying. Her mother’s every waking moment is spent on the event. Who’s bringing this, and when is that arriving. The printers misprint the pamphlets and they have to be sent back. 

The signs come in without the wires to stick them in the ground, so they have to improvise. 

And as much as Peggy wants to sulk and just be miserable, she doesn’t have the time. 

And her mother starts to scare her. 

“Mum, you have to eat. Something, anything.” 

“I’ll eat in a bit.” She responds. The same response she gave 6 hours ago. 

Peggy watches as her mother starts to slowly walk to her office and search through an info packet. 

The door to her office closes and Peggy sits in silence. Another quiet night in what might as well be an empty house. 

————-

Margaret,

It was so good to hear from you. I look forward to seeing you at the event. The Summer Program is going well, and I’m sorry to hear about your mother being stressed. I know planning events can take a toll and I’m glad you’re there to help her. I'm sure you’re a big assistance in the face of all there is to do. Talk to you soon. 

-Fred

———-

Every email she exchanges with him feels like another piece of her summer is chipped away. That girl who cleaned up spilled wine with a smile, or sat on Steve’s tailgate answering questions that scared her, or let Angie dress her up for a party. She is gone. Slowly reverting back to who she was and… 

She guesses it’s fine. 

—————

Angie and Sam seem to be falling head over heels for each other. Everything she texts about Sam makes Peggy think of Steve. They sound very similar and as much as it makes Peggy’s heart ache, she is happy for Angie. 

On the rare phone call that she has with her, Angie brings it up. 

“So… what happened between you and Steve?” 

Peggy’s throat goes dry but she forces herself to seem calm. “What do you mean? We were just friends and now we’re not really around each other anymore. Nothing more to tell.” 

Angie’s “oh” is sad and resigned. 

And her curiosity peaks, “why? Did he say something?” 

Angie sighs, “when does Steve say anything?” 

And Peggy wants to remind her that Steve said a lot of something’s to her. Their game had ceased to be a game and become what Peggy considered a true friendship. 

But she was wrong. 

—————-

When her Aunt Audrey stops by, Peggy already knows something’s going to go wrong. 

Her mother is on the phone, arguing with her chef for the event, and the concrete company still hasn’t shown. 

And the excited expression on her aunt’s face spells future disaster. 

“Amanda.” Her aunt orders. “Hang up that phone! I have exciting news!” 

Her mother waves at her for another minute and her aunt sighs, sitting down in the chair across from Peggy’s little desk. 

“So?” She asks, “how are you? You seem…” her aunt studies her and frowns, “more sad than I last saw you?” 

Peggy goes stiff, but feigns a laugh, “what? No, I’m fine.” 

Her aunt sighs, “oh no, we’re back to the ‘fine’s’.” 

“What? Oh, I…” 

“Audrey?” Her mother asks, phone pressed against her chest, “what is it? I can’t hang up, so just tell me quick.” 

Audrey looks ready to argue but just stands and smiles, “it’s finished!” 

Peggy looks at her and her mother tilts her head, “what?” 

“The beach house! It’s finished!” 

“Finished…?” 

“Being renovated!” Her aunt squealed, “now come on, it’s 5 pm and you guys are off the clock. It’s only a few hours there and then we might be able to catch that ice cream shop before they close!” 

“Audrey, what in heavens are you talking about?” 

“I want to drive you guys to the beach house to see the finished product! Oh it’s so wonderful!” 

“Oh—“ Peggy starts but her mother cuts her off, 

“Audrey, I don’t know what on earth had possessed you to think I have the time for this but I do not.” She starts to put the phone to her ear, but Audrey cuts in. 

“Amanda, it’s just one night. You can take off one night from work.” 

“No.” Her mother snaps, “I can’t.” 

“I know this is last minute,” Audrey says kindly, trying to stay calm, “but a break will be good for you. You need to eat, sleep—“ 

“Audrey.” The harshness quiets the room, “I do not have time.” 

Her aunt sighs and sinks back into the chair, “fine. I guess I should have known you wouldn’t go before your big event. But no exceptions, this coming Sunday we’re leaving at 8am.” She smiles and gets ready to stand. 

“Leaving where?” Her mother asks. 

Oh no, Peggy thinks. “The week.” She offers softly, “at the beach house.” 

“What?” Her mother looks confused and annoyed, “I can’t take a week off! When did you decide that?” 

Her aunt stands and Peggy can see genuine hurt across her face, “I didn’t decide that. We all did! You said it was fine two months ago!” 

“Well it’s not.” Her mother snaps back, “I can’t leave right after our biggest event! That’s when sales will start and buyers will stop by and we break ground the week after!” 

“And then, and then, and then… ” her aunt responds harshly, “until you die? Until you work so hard you forget Harrison even existed?” 

“Don’t—“ 

“Don’t what, Amanda? Remind you that you have a daughter who is alive and here? And you’re tossing me and her aside in your grief?” 

“Don’t talk to me about grief—“ 

“No!” Her aunt shouts, making all of them jump, “I will! You’re killing yourself to avoid even dealing with your grief! I know losing a brother-in-law and a nephew is not the same. I understand that. But Peggy lost a brother and a dad too, and you won’t even let her grieve!” 

“She’s fine.” 

“She’s not fine! ” Her aunt shrieks. “She’s becoming you! And that’s the opposite of fine!” Peggy winces back and her mother’s face is draining of color. “I actually saw a change in her this summer. She was out, meeting new people! Having fun! She once said she was fine and I actually believed it! Not the lies you both usually tell! Now I’m standing here, offering time for you two to be together, to heal, to visit a place that Harrison and Michael loved and you’re saying ‘No’?” 

“I don’t have time—“ 

“When will you have time?” Her aunt’s question is sharp. 

And it’s silent. 

“Amanda? When. When will you have time to spend with me? With your daughter?” 

“I live with Maragaret.” 

“PEGGY!” Her aunt shrieks, “she hates being called Margaret! Don’t you know her at all? And you’re not spending time with her. You’re both stuck in a prison together. Those are not the same thing!” 

Peggy can’t think of a single thing to say. 

And neither can her mother. 

“So?” Her aunt asks, “are you going to come next week? Or not?” 

Another pin drop silence. 

Then her mother sighs, “Audrey, I don’t have time.” 

Not ‘I don’t have time right now’. Not ‘we will sometime’. 

I don’t have time. 

Her aunt glares at her and then scoffs. She turns in a slow circle and then points harshly at her sister, “No one is fooled. When you say ‘you’re fine’? No one believes you.” Then she just exits the door, slamming it behind her and is gone. 

Peggy turns to talk to her mother, but she’s already back on the phone walking into her office.

————

She’s eating dinner, slowly picking at the parts the microwave got hot enough when her phone rings. 

Her mum. 

“Hello?” 

“I need a phone number from you.” 

“Oh,” she gets off her chair about to walk to her mum’s home office, “I’ll get your phone book.” 

“No.” Her mother says with a sigh. “It’s a number you have. The catering people.” 

“You want Winnie’s number?” 

“Yes.” 

“Why?” 

“The chef quit. And good riddance. But now I’m down a caterer and I have no other options. So please… Peggy.” And just that… the use of her name feels like an olive branch after 40 days of mind numbing misery. “The number.” She lists it off by memory and her mother sighs, “thank you.” And with a click she is gone. 

—————

Their luck only gets worse from there though. Storms show in the forecast and their entertainment cancels, but her mother perseveres through it all. Barely sleeping as she preps and organizes down to the last minute.  

And the evening before the gala is to begin, her Aunt shows back up. 

Peggy watches in trepidation as a truck she doesn't recognize and her aunt’s car pulls into the driveway. 

Then they’re unloading things that seem like a jumble until one is set up on it’s base. 

Artwork. 

Steve’s artwork. 

Her mother comes out the door, phone in hand and stops abruptly. “What’s this?” 

Her aunt barely looks at them, “don’t worry. I just needed a place to set these and get pictures of them. I’m sending them to Paul to see which ones he wants at home and the others I’m taking to the beach house.” 

Peggy stares at them. Intricate lawn pieces, some with moving structures that spin lazily in the breeze. But every piece has stained glass. Some part where light shines through translucent color and leaves a glow. Her hand ghosts softly over an umbrella, the metal handle sticking up as the ‘fabric’ of the umbrella, made out of metal sheeting, twists gracefully against the wind. Almost as if it’s spinning it like a top. 

“Well,” her mom says, watching the last piece get unloaded, “that’s fine.” Then Peggy watches as her mother studies the pieces. They’re impressive and delicate and eye-catching. “Where did you get these?” 

“From Peggy’s friend, Steve.” 

“Steve?” 

Her aunt turns to her mother and nods, “yes, Steve.” 

“Is that…? The boy who drove you home?”

Peggy nods and her mother’s lips shift to the side, considering. 

“Didn’t Peggy tell you he’s an artist?” 

“No.” Peggy’s eyes don’t leave the piece in front of her. 

Then her aunt is talking again. 

“I’ve got friends in my neighborhood who saw those little pieces that I’d bought back at the store and they flipped. So I told Steve if he ever expands then he needs to come my way. I could find him buyers who would pay double the price.” 

Peggy nods and a small, “wow” escapes her lips. 

“I saw his studio over at his house when I went to pick these up. Just fascinating pieces being worked on. I asked what his plan was but he’s not sure. He wants to go to college but he’s been having so much success with his art that he may just move straight into that business! Then I saw the award on the wall and I was just so blown away!” 

“Award?” 

Her aunt turns to her, “yeah, the Stark Arts Award.” 

“What’s that?” 

“It’s a nationwide competition.” Peggy turns to her mother who was the one who had answered. “They look for the best new artists and give them a scholarship. And their designs get displayed in all the Stark Towers.” 

Peggy’s eyes widen, “What!? He never told me that?” 

“Well, he met Howard Stark when he came to the prison.” Her aunt adds,  “Did Steve ever tell you this story?” 

Peggy shakes her head ‘no’, her eyes widening. Howard Stark was… a multi billionaire.

“Well, Howard Stark has been active in the prison reform, you know? You remember those ad campaigns. He’s trying to incentivize learning and education in the prisons to help those who get released back on their feet. Now his focus is mainly the STEM fields, but as he’s traveling up and down the eastern seaboard. He stops at the prison Steve is in, and comes across the welding class. Local professors stop by and teach skills. It’s really fascinating. Anyways, Howard catches sight of some of Steve’s welding, and offers for him to design decoration pieces for his towers. But Steve says he’s more into art, the welding is just the structure. Then Howard Stark tells Steve to have a piece ready for him to see the next time he visits. So then Steve puts together a piece—“ her aunt flaps her hand, “it almost made me cry, anyways, it’s this glass frame, and it’s metal filling the inside, so it’s this juxtaposition that usually metal frames and glass is in the middle, but he flipped that idea on it’s head. But then,” she grabs her phone, tapping as if looking for something. “Steve put mini slats in the metal, and when you hold it up to the light at a certain angle, words appear in its shadow, ‘you choose what you see’ .” She turns her phone to show the phone screen, an article and a picture is on display. Steve, scars and all standing next to Howard Stark, the piece on display behind them, angled with a light behind it to show off the words. Steve’s smiling. Peggy’s eyes are on his face until her aunt turns her phone back. 

“He never told me that…” she whispers out. 

“Well, he didn’t tell me either.” Her aunt laughs, “his mom? Stepmom maybe?” 

“Winnie?” 

“Dark hair? Short?” 

“Yeah, that’s Winnie, she’s his mom’s best friend.” 

“Ah, well she’s the one who told me the story while Steve and another young man helped load these pieces up. Now Steve’s art is on display in the Stark Tower in New York and LA. And he’s designing pieces for Howard’s home in Malibu. It’s wild! And the sweetest part is,” She turns to her mother and Peggy gets the feeling it’s very pointed, “he told Howard Stark that whatever money he would pay him for the pieces, he wanted it to go to the renovation of the prison.” 

“What?” Peggy breathes out. She’s watched Steve serve, avoid the grabby women, and haul boxes of bottles all summer trying to earn for college. And he is turning down that money? But somehow it doesn't surprise her at all. Of course Steve would. Bucky’s still there. 

“He’s a quiet one.” Her aunt says to Peggy with a smile, “but so incredible.” 

She turns to help unload the last piece.

“Won’t that break?” Peggy asks as they set the large piece on the lawn. It’s a metal wire frame, large and with intricate iron-workings, but the middle is divided, sectioned like a window. And three have beautiful marbled stained glass, and the other three are empty, letting the viewer see through the piece to whatever is behind, like a picture frame. 

“Steve says he’s found a way to reinforce the glass and framing with fishing line or chicken wire or something. I’m not sure. He’s also pouring, heating, and dyeing his own glass. So he said he’s copying the technique that creates the strongest glass.” 

The longing ache is magnified. She misses Steve more than she can even admit to herself. A real friend. 

“Amanda!” 

They turn to see a woman and man, leaning out of the windows of their cars, “those pieces are magnificent! What an amazing draw they will be tomorrow! Smart thinking!” Peggy’s certain she’s seen them in the realtors office working with her mother. 

“Oh—“ her mom starts to say, presumably to correct her, but they’re beeping their horn and waving. 

“Simply fantastic!” 

And they stand there quietly while the car disappears down the street. And she’s right because the neighbors and the children outside playing, and the people walking their dogs seem to slow in front of their house. Taking in the display and pointing and smiling. 

“Maybe…” her mother starts, “these would be a nice addition for tomorrow…” 

Her Aunt purses her lips in a smile, and then nods, “I guess I could delay my return.” 

And just like that, it starts to rain. 

————-

They run inside and her mother starts making phone calls. She hears click after clack of her mother pacing back and forth. Her aunt runs out to grab dinner for them and then Peggy hears a familiar sound. 

She walks out the door and he’s there. Steve. Right outside his car, a box of something in his hands. 

They take a slow step towards each other, and she feels the rain start to seep into her shirt. 

“What are you doing here?” 

“Your aunt left without the stuff for maintenance. To maintain the pieces.” 

“Oh.” 

His eyes are guarded. “I called you.” 

“I know.” 

“You didn’t answer.” 

“I just…” She tries to explain, “I figured we should stop pretending.” 

His eyes shift to his pieces on the lawn and then back, “pretend what?” 

“That we’re friends.” 

His mouth turns down, his eyes showing hurt, “we’re… not friends?” 

“I mean…” she huffs, “are we? Were we? I tried to talk to you that night. And you seemed weird.” 

“What night, my birthday?” 

“No.” She says quickly, “the night I snuck out. The night you didn’t want to hang out. You were being weird and fidgety and I was foolish because I should have realized earlier that we were just friends of convenience.” 

The hurt on his face is clear and present and then it’s gone. Sliding into a blank expression, “oh.” The he frowns again, “Is that why you said you were getting back together with Fred? Because I said I was busy?” 

“Well,” she cuts in, “I mean, it just makes sense right? We both have someone and that’s that.” She turns to leave and he speaks quietly. 

“Peggy.”  he turns, and his face has a layer of confusion she doesn’t understand, but he just tilts his head and asks. “Fred… He’s the right one for you?” 

And it’s this unexpected question from him that happens to be the end of their game. They didn’t go into this conversation knowing the game was coming to an end. But here it is. 

The last question. In the pouring rain. 

Steve’s hair droops. A strand brushing against the top of a scar above his eyebrow. His blue eyes look at her intensely and she finds that here, in the very last question she breaks the only rule. 

She lies. 

“Yes.” 

She steps back and then turns, heading towards the house, feeling the rain cut against her. 

When she turns to close the door, he’s already gone. 

————-

There is nothing to do but wait as her mother makes final arrangements to move the party inside. They were hoping the rain would be finished, but the outside is still like a waterfall and they can’t wait any longer. Furniture is pushed against walls, and small tables are erected around the house. The maids arrive and clean before disappearing just in time for the other associates to arrive. 

Peggy sends her mother up to shower and get ready as B&R catering arrive. 

“Geez.” Angie says in a huff, trying to wipe her bangs out of her face, “what a downpour.” 

“So,” Winnie says with a hesitant smile, “I assume we’re shifting the party inside?”

“Yes,” Peggy says, trying to not sound awkward, “inside. We’ve had crisis after crisis.” 

“Well,” She smiles easier, “we know what to do for that don’t we.” 

————

After a while, Peggy gets anxious. Her mother hasn’t come downstairs yet and Winnie has a few questions. 

So she walks up the stairs and looks in her mother’s room. But it’s empty. She turns to head back downstairs when she hears a shuffle coming from her room. 

She turns, walking slowly, pushing in her door and seeing her mother standing at her closet. 

“Mum?” 

The woman turns and there’s tear streaks on her cheeks, cutting through her make-up. 

“Mum?” Peggy asks in surprise, because she hasn’t seen her mother cry since before her father. “What’s wrong?”

“I came. Looking for that sweater you borrowed a while back. Thought I’d wear it tonight. And I found this.” 

She holds out the package. The red of the Christmas wrapping bright and cheery. As is the envelope that holds her father’s handwriting. 

“Oh.” 

“What is it?” 

“Aunt Audrey brought it from the beach house. Said she found it hidden there.” 

Her mother’s fingers ghost over the words To my Fighter

“Why haven’t you opened it?” 

“U-um.” The word comes out shaky and her mother looks up. And then Peggy’s crying too. “It’s not Christmas yet.” 

Her mother hands her the package and waits. So Peggy gingerly peels back the wrapper to find a little brown box. She pulls the top off and stares at it in disbelief. 

A little metal wire circle. With stained glass inside. A little Union Jack carefully crafted out of stained glass in the very center. Her heart catches in her throat, eyes flicking up to the circle with the star hanging on her window. 

Her father had met Steve. Had seen Steve’s art and thought of her. Had probably had this specially made. 

“What is it?” 

Peggy lifts it gently by the fabric ribbon used to hang it and holds it up. Her mother gasps and gently holds it in her palm. She follows her line of sight to the other piece and then to Peggy’s window, where even though they can’t see them from this angle, Steve’s pieces are sitting in the lawn below. 

“Is this…?” 

“Yeah.” Peggy rasps out. 

Her mother’s fingers clutch the glass and she sobs, pressing it to her forehead and sinking down. Peggy watches in shock for a moment, but then gets her bearings. Sinking to the ground as well and wrapping her arms around her. Instead of pulling away, her mother sinks deeper into the hug and they just sit there, crying. 

———-

“This event was supposed to be perfect.” 

“Nothing’s perfect, mum.” Peggy says. 

Her mother looks up, and sighs, “you’re right.” 

“Go wash up and then come down stairs when you’re ready. Okay?” 

Her mother nods, taking the sweater with her, and Peggy walks to her window, hanging up the new circle, feeling like they were always meant to be a matched set. Maybe that’s why Steve gave her the other one. He thought she already had this one. Must have wondered why she never mentioned it. 

By the time Peggy gets back downstairs, Winnie has everything in hand. She’s rearranged the furniture, changed the set up and lighting to be more cozy. The smell of ravioli and fresh basil filling the kitchen while the scent of baking bread fills the house. 

“Wow.” Peggy says as she finds the group preparing trays, “everything looks amazing.” 

“Everything okay?” Winnie asks. 

“Yeah.” Peggy says softly, “I think everything is going to be fine.” And she means it. 

The rain continues and Peggy can see people waiting in their cars, hoping for a pause so they can make a break for it. 

Her mom comes down the stairs, fresh faced and looking calm. More calm and more at ease than Peggy can remember in the distant past. 

Peggy turns to see Angie beside her at the window, bracelets clanking against her side as she crosses her arms over her chest. She has an annoyed expression.

“What?” 

“Why?” 

“Why what?” 

“You know what.” 

Peggy frowns, “actually, I don’t.” 

Angie huffs and turns to Wanda, who is standing idly by the door, “don’t even.” 

“Angie.” Winnie says from the kitchen, “now is not the time.” 

“When is the time though? When she ditches us again for another month and we don’t see her?” 

Peggy winces, eyeing her mother who just sort of watches the scene. Not responding to the obvious railing against Peggy’s punishment. 

“Angie,” Winnie warns, “let it go.” 

“What?” Peggy asks, thoroughly confused. “What are you mad about?” 

“How could you?” It’s not said in anger really, just hurt and confusion. 

“How could I, what?” 

“Choose fucking Fred over Steve?!”

Winnie’s voice comes out sharp, “Angie!”

Peggy reels back, “Excuse me?!” 

“I can’t believe after everything, after the stupid game you guys played and the way you bonded over having lost parents and the birthday thing where he comforted you that you just ditched him.” 

Peggy feels her mother step up beside them, “I’m sorry, what’s happening?” 

“Are you trying to make me cry?” Winnie says, pinching her nose, “it’s none of our business, Angie!”

“It is our business! Steve’s practically your son, and he’s my brother and I just don’t get how brainiac Fred, who dumped you because you admitted you loved him, could even begin to compare to Steve.” Angie’s accusatory glare makes Peggy’s throat go dry. 

“Wait.” Her mother steps forward, turning to Peggy, “Fred… called the break because you told him you loved him?” 

Even now the embarrassment is shrill. “No. I mean, yes. Sort of.” Then she turns to Angie, “why are we still talking about this?!”

“Because that idiot dumped you, and you still chose him over Steve!” 

“I can’t choose Steve!” Peggy finally gets out, her voice snappish, “he’s not available as you know. So it doesn't matter!”

The room goes silent. And Angie looks at her, “um, what?” 

Peggy huffs, “what, what?” 

“What do you mean Steve’s not available?” 

Peggy sighs, “you told me yourself he has a girlfriend.” 

“Huh?” Pietro asks, walking in from the back door, carrying a box of serving ware, “who has a girlfriend?” 

“Steve does.” 

Winnie sets the spatula down on the counter. “No. No, he doesn’t.” 

Peggy's confused why they're denying it, “yes. He is. I saw him at the diner with her. Red hair, gorgeous?” 

Realization lights on Angie’s face, “Natasha?” 

“Yes. You—“ Peggy points to Winnie, “told me yourself he was with her.” 

Angie shakes her head, “noooo. She told you he was out meeting with Natasha. She’s dating Bucky. They meet up every other week and she fills him in on what’s going on with him.” 

Her stomach sinks to her toes. “Oh.” She looks at the ground, suddenly feeling like the room is tilting, “I saw him last night.” 

“And?” 

“He asked if I thought Fred was the right one for me.” Peggy whispers out, now understanding why that specific question had been asked. 

“What did you tell him?” 

“Yes.” 

Angie shrieks, “because you thought he was dating someone else!?” 

Peggy nods and Angie slaps a hand to her forehead, “Peggy! Why the hell didn’t you just ask! No one never said they were dating!” 

“I just thought…” her excuses run out, and now she realizes how silly she was. How foolish and ignorant. “I didn’t know! I didn’t think he wanted me like that. He never said.” 

“Because you were taken!” Angie huffs, “Steve would never insert himself like that! Steve…” she pauses and then looks back at Winnie, “we all saw it. How much you guys fit. How well you got along. Steve… he really wanted to tell you how he felt. He really likes you. And I knew you liked him too. Don’t lie. But you kept saying you were going to get back with Fred. So he stayed back. Never said anything.” 

Her eyes close and she can feel her mom looking at her. “Oh.” 

The doorbell rings and they all jump. And suddenly, the party has to start. 

————

Despite the inner turmoil in her head and heart, the party is a success. The guests are mingling and chatting and laughing about the torrential rain. The food is flying off the trays but there is plenty more coming and Peggy doesn't hear a tray hit the ground all night. 

Her mother seems truly at ease, walking around and chatting and answering questions as they come up. 

Then he’s there. 

Fred. 

“Hello,” 

Peggy sees his light brown hair and his clean shaven face and the genuine way in which he smiles at her. But she feels no connection. “Hello.” 

“How have you been?” He asks, stepping to the side to let a guest pass. 

“I’ve been okay,” she says honestly, “lots of craziness over the summer.” 

“Oh?” He asks, with his traditional head tilt when he hears something he doesn't understand. “Like what?” 

A door to the outside porch opens and she hears laughter, realizing the rain has stopped. So she and Fred walk out onto the deck and she sighs in relief at the touch of the cool air. Sunset is making the sky cozy against the still dark storm clouds. 

“Just…” Peggy starts, “it's been a lot. Figuring things out with my mom and… I don’t know, figuring some things out for me. But it’s all fine. How are you?” 

“I’ve been well. I’ve enjoyed camp a lot and think I’ll go again next summer.” 

“It’s just divine!” They hear a voice say from around the corner, “these pieces are fabulous!”

Fred turns to her, “I saw your mom got some new yard decorations?” 

And something about his phrasing makes her bite her tongue, “they’re art.” 

Fred smiles at her, “well, that doesn't say much. They’ll label anything as ‘art’ these days.” 

She wants to defend the pieces. Defend Steve. But instead she just wipes at an errant drop of rain on her arm. “You wanted to talk?” 

“Yes, of course.” Fred smiles again and Peggy turns to the window, watching as Pietro practically runs circles around Wanda in the kitchen, loading up trays and stealing cherries for which Winnie smacks his hand. He laughs and is gone. Winnie pats Wanda on the head and shoos her out the door. 

“Peggy?” 

She turns back to see he’s waiting for an answer, or perhaps realized her thoughts were elsewhere, “hmm?” 

“How do you feel about re-evaluating when I come back?” 

“Back from…?” 

“My first semester at Yale. I really think having a semester of long distance can fulfill our goals. We will be able to focus on our academics, but still grow together as individuals. And I know I may not have understood your feelings at the beginning if the summer, but I would like to try again if you’re acceptable to that.“ 

“Try… ?” 

“To see if we’re a good fit.” He says, starting to gesture with his hands as if making a list, “I know we both want to do what’s best for ourselves. So I think we should each write an essay about what we are looking for in a relationship.” 

That gets her attention, “an essay?” 

“Yes, then we can read it to each other and see if what we’re looking for matches up. Then go from there.” 

“That’s…” she furrows her brow, “that’s not how you figure out if you’re—“ 

She hears a cheer and she looks in to see Winnie pulling Steve into a hug and kissing his cheek. He’s standing with something in his arms and Winnie takes it. He looks like he’s asking her something and she’s pointing to the door to the living room with a smile on her face. Winnie disappears out the kitchen door to the garage and Steve takes a deep breath, about to head towards the door when he catches her looking at him in the window. 

They look at each other and then his eyes flick to Fred. His eyes flick back to meet hers, resignation there, and then he’s gone. Out the back door and she can hear him exiting the house. 

“—Right partner.” She finishes. The words escaping her as she feels a frantic need to chase after him. “Fred, I have to go.” 

“What? Peggy.” 

“I can’t.” Then she looks up at him, and the truth comes out. “I don’t want to get back together with you. You and I are not the right person for each other.” 

“How can you know?” He asks, genuinely confused. 

“I just know.” She says, “enjoy the party!” Then she’s out, the low heels she has on get flung off as she starts running, heading towards the front of the house. He’s already into his car, and she can see that his head is on the steering wheel. 

“Peggy!” She hears Fred call, but she’s running down the drive. With a start, her heart lurches as his engine turns over. The lights flicker on as he puts it in drive and he’s pulling away from the curb. It is now, or it feels like never. 

She leaps over one of his art pieces and runs into the street, knowing he will have to make a circle to exit the cul-de-sac. 

Soon his headlights hit her and he slows to a stop. 

She can’t really see his face, his headlights blinding her. But this time she doesn't feel like a deer caught in them. She’s putting herself here. Allowing herself to be vulnerable and potentially get hurt. It’s her choice. No one else’s. And she’s finally, truthfully, actually in control. 

His headlights shut off, dousing her in darkness and then the car door opens. He steps out, the door still open, as if he might get back in at any second. “Peggy?” 

“Steve. There’s a new rule.” 

Even in the fading light, the street lights flickering on and reflecting off the wet pavement, she can see the way his brow furrows. “Huh?” 

“New rule. To our game. Which we haven’t finished.” 

His eyes are still guarded but he seems to understand the context now. “And what’s that?”

And it’s a guess. But she takes the leap. “For you to win. You have to answer the question.” 

“Which question?” 

“The last question I asked.” 

He looks at her, his eyes looking dark gray instead of their usual blue. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” 

And now she’s sure. She takes a step forward. “Wait. I’m not finished.” She steps forward and is flooded with relief when he actually takes a step forward towards her as well. “The second half of this new rule is…” she’s closing the gap. Only a few feet apart, “that whatever your answer is. We have to do it. Right away.” 

His eyes widen and he’s shaking his head. “No, it’s—“ 

“Steve.” She says firmly, “If you could do anything. Right now. What would it be?” 

“Peggy—” 

“Steve. Answer the damn question.” 

This makes him smile but then he’s nervous again, and how could she not have understood it sooner? Why couldn’t she have just asked? But that’s not what life is about. It’s not about saving yourself from heartache. It’s about working on how to get through it and hopefully having someone by your side to be there. 

“I—“ he starts, looking back at the house and running a hand through his hair, “I wanted to—“ 

But she doesn't let him finish. Sure now that the next words his lips are going to form is ‘kiss you’. 

So she kisses him. Pulling him forward and tugging his face down to hers. Their lips meet and then he’s holding her. His arms surrounding her waist and hers around his neck. 

She can feel the small bump. The scar on his lip and it makes her smile. To know that she’ll be able to kiss these lips, this scar forever. It’s forever. She just knows. 

And that’s fine with her. 

————

Epilogue:

“Come on.” She huffs, “you can do better than that!” She wipes at her brow and Steve laughs. “Didn’t you go to prison for fighting?” 

Steve’s laying on the mat in her basement, breathing heavily and looking up at her with an in awe grin. “You’re too kick-ass for me, Carter.” 

“Well.” She says primly, dropping down on the mat beside him and unwrapping her knuckles. The punching bag swings gently to their left and she lays beside him. “I guess that’s true.” 

“I can’t wait to see you in that competition next month. I’m going to record it and everything.” 

“Remind me who is going to be flown to Howard Stark’s personal home at christmas?” 

He groans but there’s a smile on his face and she rests her head on his chest, looking at him. “Are you excited?” 

He looks down at her, “for?” 

“Bucky to come home?” 

Steve’s head lays back down. Peggy had now met James Barnes once, when she’d convinced Steve to try once more to visit him. When they’d arrived at the prison, Peggy had handed the guards a note and asked if they could deliver it to him. 

5 minutes later, Bucky had walked into the visitation room, leaving Steve in complete awe. He’d turned to her and with wide eyes had asked what she’d written. 

“The truth.” She said softly. 

And then she stepped back as Steve moved forward, grabbing his friend and pulling him into a hug. There was only one second of hesitation before Bucky grasped him back. Both holding each other like long lost siblings reunited. She did not comment on the watery eyes that were present on both when they broke apart. But she was glad. 

They talked and laughed until it was time to go. And the brunette, with a nice smile and earnest eyes, had grasped her hand and held it between his, “thanks.” 

She had looked at Steve. “For him? Anything.” 

“I am.” Steve responds. Pulling her out of the memory. “It will be nice to have him home, finally. I’ve missed him. 

“And he’s missed you.” 

“Yeah.” 

“Well. Glad we have that sorted.” She jests, “another round?” 

“Can’t we just say you won and go out for french toast?” 

“Come now, Rogers, where’s the fighting spirit?” 

He groans and then snags her hand as she begins to stand, pulling her back down onto his chest and holding her there. “You know.” He says with a teasing threat, “I could probably hold you like this forever.” 

“Hmm.” She responds, kissing him on the lips and then on the little ‘x’ scar on his cheek. “Don’t tempt me.” 

—————