Work Text:
A Halloween party. SSR Agent Peggy Carter was at an honest to God Halloween party. She looked around the cramped basement bar, the air thick with smoke and conversation. Earlier in the week, when Angie had suggested this, Peggy had flatly declined. A Halloween party? Who’d heard of such a thing. Actors, apparently. American actors.
But then followed Peggy’s absolutely retched work week. Suddenly, the Halloween party seemed more tempting. Not that brushing elbows with people dressed like skeletons, witches and the occasional historical figure improved her week at all. That was strictly the purview of the alcoholic beverages.
Peggy supposed she should be ashamed of the fact that her constitution was now such that she required liberal application of alcohol to get a buzz. Liberal enough that her pitiful paycheck from the SSR really wouldn’t cover it, not if she wanted to eat too. Not that there wasn’t alcohol aplenty in the apartment Howard provided. But Peggy knew it was all catalogued, and, knowing Mr. Jarvis, reported back to Howard. She’d just as soon Howard not know those particular tendencies. It was none of his business.
So Peggy cobbled together a Rosie the Riveter costume from her closet - she refused to go as a more traditional character. And, presently, she and Angie were shouting to hear one another between sultry smiles at the fellas with enough disposable income to buy them drinks. Peggy didn’t even feel bad about it. Who knew. Maybe she’d find some company. It had been a long time. Too long. She had no interest in a romantic entanglement, but the lure of some anonymous rendezvous with a costumed partner held a certain appeal. At least after the half dozen drinks she’d had.
There was one guy, dressed as Teddy Roosevelt, who kept coming over to chat. He was easy enough on the eyes, though not quite as good looking as he seemed to think he was. Angie said he looked familiar. She’d seen him in auditions, but couldn’t remember his name. As he approached them again, Peggy kicked Angie under the table.
She glanced his way and then leaned in toward Peggy. “He ain’t back for me, English. You enjoy.”
Peggy frowned. She really had no desire to enjoy him. But she was dying for a cigarette. Luckily, he had one. But as she leaned forward to light it, she tipped too far forward and started to fall off her barstool. Teddy Roosevelt reached out for her, but before he could, there was another hand at her elbow, steadying her, depositing her back in her seat. Peggy looked up at the blank expanse of light blue sheet.
“Yer ghost returns,” Angie said, laughing, patting Peggy on the shoulder.
Ah, yes. The ghost. The ghost who did not speak, did not buy her drinks, and always seemed to be hovering just out of range. The metaphor was enough to make her want to choke. The last thing she needed was another ghost.
However, unlike her other ghosts, this one was solidly corporeal. He was tall. Caucasian from the quick glimpse she had of the back of his hand. Judging from the hem of his pants and the shoes that he wore, he was neither rich, nor poor. The shoes were of sturdy quality, but the soles were well worn. Her guess was that he was a GI, recently discharged. How he ended up at this party frequented by out of work actors, she had no idea.
She was sitting there, lost in her thoughts when Casper held out a match to her. Pleasantly surprised, she cupped her hands around his and lit the cigarette. He had nice hands. Rough, which she liked. She exhaled and looked at him. He just stood there, looking at her. Or at least she thought he was looking at her. The lighting was so dim and the smoke so dense, it was hard to tell. The top half of the sheet was loose enough that she couldn’t see anything beyond the eyeholes. She couldn’t tell if his eyes were light or dark. Or glowing red, but she rather doubted the latter. Halloween was ridiculous.
“I’ve had the feeling all week that someone was watching me, Casper,” she said. “Was it you?”
He canted his head to the side and she knew that underneath that sheet, he was frowning. She laughed. Teddy Roosevelt seemed pretty livid that he was being ignored. Peggy didn’t care. She didn’t spare him a glance. Maybe Casper was homely. Maybe he’d been disfigured in the war. It was common enough.
Angie disappeared, but quickly returned with another round of drinks and a tag along, Marco. Peggy suppressed a sigh and downed half her drink in a single gulp. Marco wasn’t an actor. He was a steelworker. And he was in love with Angie. Most likely, Angie was in love with him too. But Angie was more in love with acting. While Peggy had signed up for the Halloween party, she had not signed up for front row tickets to the Angie and Marco show. She finished her drink and wandered away.
She made a quick stop at the loo, where she fixed her lipstick and then ventured back into the bar. It was getting more and more packed. Her seat at the table with Angie and Marco had been taken by one of Angie’s friends, Gladys. Peggy leaned back against the wall and took a proffered cigarette from a scarecrow. It wasn’t long before Casper reappeared at her elbow. Not crowding, but undeniably there. God, she was drunker than she thought. She stood there, taking a drag off the cigarette, willing her eyes not to burn. The way Casper stood there, close but not too close, attentive, but not overbearing, hell the way he tilted his head toward her it … Fuck. It reminded her so damn much of Steve.
She shook her head, stubbing out the cigarette. This was beyond ridiculous. She figured it was getting to the point where she just couldn’t remember anymore what Steve had been actually like, so her brain was filling in gaps, making things up. Drawing parallels where none existed. Maybe she had been right earlier, maybe she did just need to find some company for the evening.
She looked at Casper and nodded her head toward the stairs. “I’m going up for some air,” she said. She turned, leaving it up to him whether he would follow or not. But she could feel the heavy tread of his footfalls right behind hers on the stairs. They reached the ground level. There was a long hallway, lined with doors, and then the exit. Peggy had said she was going out for air, but truthfully it was already cold outside and beginning to drizzle rain. She grabbed the front of Casper’s sheet and pulled him down to the far end of the hall to an office door that proclaimed to be the business place of Sid Rosenbloom, CPA. Taking a pin out of her hair, Peggy jimmied the lock and pulled Casper inside.
She shut the door and shoved him back against it. He just stood there, waiting. Peggy really was beginning to wonder if he was disfigured under the sheet. She wasn’t entirely sure if she cared either way. But it was curious.
Slowly, she reached out and pressed her palms against his chest. She could feel how shallowly he was breathing. “Do you talk?” she asked.
She had the feeling, then, that he wanted to say something, but couldn’t, or wouldn’t. Slowly, she reached for the sheet and began inching it up. It wasn’t nearly as scandalous as it could have been, considering all that was being revealed was a pair of tan slacks and a blue button up shirt. But he was breathing like he’d just run a race. He was terribly fit. One touch and she knew that. His chest felt like it had been chiseled out of stone. She had no idea why he would be so nervous.
She made to pull the sheet off his face and he stopped her, clasping her hands. She stood there, waiting to see what he would do, but he did nothing. “Let me,” she said.
After a moment, he relaxed, releasing her hands. She took pity on him then and put her hands under the sheet, skimming them up his shoulders, to the open collar of his shirt. His skin was so hot and she could feel his chest heaving with the force of his breath. Carefully, her hands skimmed up his neck to cup his jaw. Her thumbs played against his full bottom lip. He may have been homely under there, but he didn’t feel disfigured at all. Truthfully, he didn’t feel homely either. There wasn’t a single imperfection that she could feel. She moved her hands up, into his hair and he shuddered, leaning forward, giving her better access, pressing into her touch.
“Peggy,” he groaned.
Her entire world stopped on a dime.
She tried to bolt backwards, but he grabbed her hands. In the ensuing scuffle, as he pulled her to him, clamping a hand over her mouth, the sheet fell to the floor.
Peggy blinked up at Steve Rogers.
“Shhh,” he hissed, looking around frantically. “Don’t scream.”
Scream? Peggy Carter scream? She bit his finger. Hard.
Yelping, he pulled his hand away and she shoved at his chest as hard as she could, at the same time, hooking her foot behind his calf, and pulling his leg forward, sending him crashing to the floor, back against the door.
He sat there, blinking at her, expression scared. “I’m sorry,” he said quickly. “I’m sorry. I’m not supposed to be here. No one’s supposed to know.”
She stared down at him, shaking her head and then launched herself at him. She wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing him deeply. It took him a moment to get with the plan, but he regrouped quickly, pulling her close. The scarf in her hair was gone in moments, along with most of the pins. Steve kissed down her neck, to the top of her chest as she undid the buttons of his shirt. She pushed him back against the door, fumbling with his belt and his hands closed over hers. “Peggy, no.”
She looked at him. “Steve, yes.”
He waited a moment. “Okay.”
It was certainly not what she had imagined for their first time. And she knew, it wasn’t what he’d imagined. But, Jesus, it was good. They lay on the floor of Sid Rosenbloom, CPA’s office, catching their breaths. Peggy was naked, save for her socks and shoes. How was that even possible? Steve still had his shorts and trousers, though they weren’t precisely on at the moment.
Peggy grabbed the discarded sheet and pulled it around both of them before pillowing her head on his chest. “So, when I mentioned earlier that I felt like someone was watching me all week …” she said.
“Guilty as charged,” he admitted. He took a breath. “It’s a huge secret that I’m back. National security stuff,” he said. He sighed. “I just … I couldn’t do it anymore. I had to see you.”
She pushed herself up and kissed him softly. A year and a half, he’d been gone. God, she’d missed him so much. She finally ended the kiss and looked down at him. “So, is this what you were expecting?”
He just blinked at her. ”Not exactly,” he admitted. “But I’m not complaining. I just, I thought we’d, you know, talk.”
“We’re talking,” Peggy said blandly.
He smiled at her and kissed her.
“Does Howard know you’re back? Because if he does, and he didn’t tell me, I’m going to kill him. Slowly.”
Steve shook his head, frowning. “No one knows, Peg. I don’t think Phillips even knows. They’ve had me locked away ‘for my own safety’ for weeks. I finally couldn’t take it anymore.”
Peggy sighed and rested her head on his chest again. “I’ll make some calls,” she said. “National security or not, Phillips and the SSR need to know.” She traced an idle pattern across his chest. “Where are you staying?”
“Nowhere,” he admitted.
She looked up at him then and frowned. “Steve.”
He shrugged.
She sighed. “You’re coming home with me.”
“That’s one of the first places they’ll look,” he said, sounding the tiniest bit embarrassed about that.
“Let them look,” Peggy replied evenly. “But God help them if they try and take you away. I am not turning my ghost over to anyone.”
END STORY