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From an outside perspective, it seemed like Peggy Carter had adjusted to the 21st century quickly and without much trouble. Not that this came as a surprise to anyone. She was, after all, an exceptionally good spy and thus well used to adapting to all kinds of different surroundings. She picked up on modern technology much faster than Steve had, though she still preferred phone calls over text messages for the sake of efficiency. She became fast friends with Pepper and - a little more reluctantly - Natasha and quickly earned the respect of the other Avengers with her sharp wit, quick thinking and loyalty.
As for Steve, well, there was no need for Peggy to win him over. She’d already done that all the way back in 1943, when she’d punched Gilmore Hodge in the face.
It had felt surreal, at first, to have her here in the future with him. It was something he would never have dared to even dream about. He hadn’t been able to stop looking at her, touching her, and she’d been just as reluctant to let go of him.
They’d spent the entire first night sitting on the couch in one of the Tower’s guest suites with their sides touching and fingers laced, talking and talking and talking until the sky was already tinted in the soft orange hues of early sunrise.
She’d turned to him then and asked him if he ever actually planned on kissing her. He hadn’t been able to put into words just how much he wanted to, so he’d simply framed her face in his hands and leaned down until finally, finally their lips were touching. It had been tender and slow and unhurried and everything their last kiss hadn’t been. Afterwards he’d buried his face in her hair and held her close and for the first time in a long while, he’d felt himself settle.
In that moment it had been easy to forget about everything else. They had lost each other before. Nobody could fault them for trying to hold onto this, if only for a little while.
Because maybe, maybe this was all they’d get.
He’d always remember the immense relief and joy he had felt when it had become clear that Peggy would not be returning to 1946. That they’d finally have what they’d always hoped for: time. A second chance.
The right partner.
He’d seen it mirrored on her face, too.
But like most things in life, it was not that simple. Because for everything Peggy had gained by coming here, there was just as much that she’d lost.
And, while to the outside world she may have put on a brave face and stiff upper lip, Steve knew her. He’d caught her staring at a picture of Howard Stark for just a fraction too long, had noticed the way she’d winced almost imperceptibly every single time she heard JARVIS voice during her first few days in this new century, had seen her looking at a Broadway poster with a wistful look in her eyes.
And he’d held her while she cried, while she’d grieved for all that she’d lost.
She’d told him once, many decades ago, on a freezing Christmas Eve that they’d spent huddled together in an old farmhouse in occupied France, that Christmas used to be her favourite holiday as a child.
He couldn’t bring back her friends, her family, everything else she’d left behind unfinished when she was suddenly thrust into this new century, this new life. But he could try to make her first Christmas here a memorable one.
He enlisted the help of Sam, who could easily be bribed with pizza and beer. Sam liked Peggy, and Steve knew the feeling was entirely mutual. Just recently they’d spent an entire afternoon discussing military strategy. So Steve printed out a list of British specialty shops from the internet - for which he incurred no small amount of ribbing from Sam - and they set out into the unpleasant November rain together.
The first shop was tiny and the selection meager, and Steve was a little deflated when they left with nothing but a few packs of Digestives and a couple of boxes of tea.
Thankfully they had more luck in the second store, which was much bigger. It was also significantly fuller than Steve had expected.
They stepped inside, dodging a woman with a stroller and a hyperactive toddler. Sam snatched the shopping list out of his hand, glancing over it quickly before handing it back to Steve.
“Okay,” he said. “I think we should split up. That way we can cover more ground much quicker.”
“Since when is this a military operation?”, asked Steve, slightly amused.
Sam merely raised his eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “Do you want to find the stuff for Peggy or not?"
Steve took on the right side of the store while Sam set out to conquer the left. He wandered the aisles slowly, scrutinizing the selection carefully. He’d done some research before, of course, but with a lot of things he simply did not know if it was something Peggy had known in her time, and even if she had, whether she actually enjoyed it. He found two different kinds of orange marmalade that he knew she liked, and was just debating whether or not Peggy would enjoy gravy made from powder simply because it was British, when a brightly decorated table in the corner caught his eye. He put the box down and slowly made his way over.
A small Christmas tree stood on a dark green blanket in the middle of a wooden table, red and silver ornaments hanging from its branches. Surrounding it were a myriad of Christmas-themed food products, different cookies, chocolates and candies, brandy butter and Christmas pudding, all kinds of different jams and preserves. It was slightly overwhelming and Steve spent a good five minutes considering his choices before settling on fudge and mince pies and adding them to his shopping basket. Turning away from the table, he quickly scanned the store for Sam, but his friend was nowhere to be seen.
Steve had just decided to make his way over to the register and wait for Sam there when his attention was caught by one of the shelves to his side. Curiosity piqued, Steve reached out and picked up one of the objects closest to him, turning it over in his hands to read the description on the back.
“Steve” he heard Sam call from somewhere to his right.
“Hm?” Steve replied distractedly. He put the object back and scanned the shelf, walking alongside it until at last he found what he’d been looking for.
Sam appeared by his side, holding up his own shopping basket.
“I just wanted to tell you that I found the Christmas crackers. Oh, what have you got there?”
Steve held up the object in question, showing it to Sam, who eyed it curiously.
“Do you think Peggy would like this?” Steve asked and Sam stepped closer so he could get a better look. Realizing what it was, he smiled.
“You know what? I think she really would.”
Steve woke early on the morning of December 1st, which wasn’t at all unusual. He’d always been an early riser and these days he didn’t need much sleep. He padded barefoot into the kitchen and stared, with no small amount of dismay, out of the window. It was still dark outside but even in the dim light of the street lanterns he could see that it was raining heavily, rivulets of water running down the window pane and collecting in puddles in the cracks of the sidewalk. Sighing heavily, he turned towards the counter and went about making his coffee. When it was done he settled at the small kitchen table with his mug and his sketchpad, sketching aimlessly as he slowly drank the coffee. By the time he was done, the black of the night sky had morphed into the dark grey of a gloomy December morning. A glance at the clock told him that Peggy would likely be awake by now. He got up and walked over to the sink, quickly rinsing out his mug.
In the hallway he put on his coat and shoes and grabbed his umbrella from the hall closet. It had been a gift from Pepper after he’d shown up at the Tower completely soaked one day and until now he had barely used it. It was black, elegant, and not at all his style. He wasn’t usually bothered by a bit of rain but he did not think that Peggy would take too kindly to him dripping all over her floors.
At last he turned his attention to the reason for his early morning visit: a medium sized, rectangular, flat package that he’d carefully wrapped the night before and left on the little sideboard by the door. Grabbing a plastic bag from where he kept them in the top drawer, he tucked the package safely into it. Then he stepped out of the door.
Peggy’s apartment, a small but freshly renovated little place Pepper had helped her find, was only a few blocks away. It was still raining heavily, and by the time he made it to her building, his boots were wet and his jeans slightly damp despite the umbrella.
Peggy was still clad in her pajamas when she opened her door, but she had pulled on a robe over them, a thick, fluffy fleece housecoat in a dark red colour that Steve had gifted her after she’d complained about the state of the heating in her apartment one too many times.
“Steve,” she said, sounding surprised but pleased to see him.
She opened the door further to let him in, leaning in for a kiss as soon as he’d closed it behind him.
“Not that I am complaining, because this is a delightful way to start the day,” she said once she’d pulled back, her right hand lingering on his chest for a moment longer. “But what brings you by so early in the morning?”
With a small smile, Steve stepped back and pulled his hand from behind his back where he’d carefully hidden it from Peggy’s sight until now and held the gift out to her.
“I just came by to drop this off,” he said.
Peggy took the gift slowly, brow furrowed slightly.
“You don’t need to look so worried. I promise it won’t explode.”
“I was merely surprised,” Peggy replied. “Not that I am complaining, darling, but I would have let you in either way. You didn’t have to bring me a gift.”
“Oh well, in that case,” Steve said, pretending to make a grab for the package.
Peggy caught his hand and gave him what was supposed to be a stern look, which was marred by the smile that crept onto her face. She gestured towards the kitchen. “Would you like to join me for a moment? I was just about to make a cup of tea.”
“Sure,” Steve replied with a smile of his own.
“Though I am assuming you’d prefer a cup of coffee,” Peggy continued as they stepped into her kitchen. She walked over to the coffee maker, which had been a housewarming gift from Tony and in her opinion had way too many options and settings. She rarely used it, as she mainly drank tea, and had so far steadfastly refused to learn how to make anything except what people these days called an Americano. This suited Steve, who preferred his coffee black.
For a moment they worked in companionable silence, Steve grabbing them two mugs from the cupboard as Peggy put the kettle on and got out a tea bag for herself.
“So,” she said once they’d settled at her kitchen table a few minutes later. “I have to admit I’m rather curious about this.”
She put the package down on the table and began to slowly and methodically peel off the tape. At last she pulled back the wrapping paper, revealing a flat, dark blue box. It had the outline of a Christmas tree painted on it in gold, and little doors that had the numbers 1 to 24 on them.
“What is it?” Peggy asked, confusion seeping into her voice as she regarded the box intently.
“It’s an advent calendar,” Steve explained. “You open a door every day of December until the 24th.”
Tracing the numbers on the doors, Peggy smiled softly. “What’s in it?”
“Tea,” Steve replied, then quickly added. “Proper British tea. I got it at a specialty shop.”
Peggy’s smile widened, showing her dimples. She reached out her hand to briefly squeeze Steve’s.
“That’s very sweet of you,” she said. “Shall I open the first door then?”
Steve nodded and Peggy turned her attention back towards the calendar, quickly identifying the door in question and opening it carefully.
“English Breakfast Tea,” she read aloud when she extracted the teabag. “Lovely.”
Putting the tea bag down, she got up from her seat and slowly walked around the table until she came to stand directly in front of Steve. Leaning forward, Peggy pressed her lips to his in a long, lingering kiss.
“Thank you for my present, Steve.”
Pepper had to admit that she’d been a little surprised when Steve had contacted her and asked if he could drop by during her lunch break at one point that week. He’d shown up at twelve o’clock on the dot on Wednesday with two coffees and one of the chocolate éclairs from the French bakery around her corner. They were Pepper’s favourite, but how he’d known that she hadn’t the faintest idea.
They exchanged pleasantries as Steve handed over the coffee and the éclair and settled in the visitor’s chair opposite Pepper’s desk. He took a swig of his own coffee and a deep breath.
“I have a favour to ask,” he began slowly.
Pepper raised her eyebrow. She hadn’t been expecting that. She and Steve weren’t close, exactly, and in all the time she’d known him he’d never asked her for a favour.
“I’m trying to organize a Christmas dinner for Peggy,” Steve continued, flushing so slightly that Pepper might have missed it, had she not been regarding him so intently. “But I’m pretty hopeless in the kitchen. I was wondering if you knew someone who might be able to help with that?”
It was sweet and thoughtful and Pepper couldn’t help but smile.
“Oh,” she said excitedly. “I know just the chef. He used to own this wonderful restaurant in London. Two Michelin stars. A modern twist on British cuisine.”
“I don’t think modern is what I’m looking for exactly,” Steve replied, sounding a bit hesitant.
“I’m sure the chef is great,” he added hastily. “I just really think that Peggy would prefer a proper English roast dinner. I don’t think that kind of food is her thing exactly and…”
“...and you’re trying to bring her some of the comforts of home,” said Pepper, not at all offended. “Of course. Leave it up to me.”
“Thank you,” Steve said earnestly.
Steve had forbidden Pepper from pulling too many strings, so she hadn’t been able to organize a dinner for Christmas Day. Instead, they had settled on the weekend before. The food arrived in the afternoon accompanied by careful reheating instructions, which Steve was extremely grateful for. He vowed to find out what Pepper’s favourite flowers were and have a big bouquet of them delivered to her after the weekend as a thank you.
While the food was reheating on the stove, he went about setting the table. It had hit him a few days earlier that this was the first time he’d actually attempted to organize a dinner like this. He and Peggy had dinner together often, but neither of them cooked so they either got take-out or they went to one of the many restaurants in the vicinity. His tableware consisted mostly of mismatched plates except for, thankfully, a set of simple white dinner and dessert plates that he had found at the back of his cupboard. He didn’t remember who had given them to him, but they were nice enough. Earlier that week he’d also braved the Christmas crowds to buy some festive napkins and a few candles that he placed in the middle of the table. He tried to arrange them to his liking but no matter how many times he moved them around, he was never happy with the result. He knew it wouldn’t matter to Peggy, but he really wanted this to be perfect.
In the end, Steve sent a picture to Pepper, who thankfully responded immediately. He wondered, briefly, if she had been anticipating his message. In any case, he should probably add another one of those chocolate éclairs to the bouquet of flowers he was going to send her.
Peggy arrived promptly at seven o’clock. She was wearing a simple navy blue dress with a thick black wool coat over it, her lips painted her signature red colour and, as always, she looked absolutely stunning.
Steve leaned in for a kiss that Peggy returned eagerly.
“Smells good,” she said when she pulled back.
“I hope it tastes good, too.”
Peggy smiled and took off her coat, hanging it carefully on the rack by the door.
“So,” she said as she stepped further into the apartment. “Did you secretly know how to cook the entire time, or is that a skill you’ve acquired recently? Because last I remember you were not allowed anywhere near the stove.”
“I’m not sure you of all people have a leg to stand on here” Steve quipped. “Remember that time in Italy when…”
“Let’s not dredge up the past,” Peggy interjected quickly, swatting Steve lightly when he smirked at her. “Or I might feel inclined to bring up the morning you tried to surprise me with breakfast on that mission in Austria.”
Steve winced slightly at the memory of ruined eggs and smoke, but his expression turned to a fond smile when he remembered Peggy’s laughter that day, warm and carefree. He’d vowed to make it up to her then. For a long time it hadn’t seemed like he’d ever get that chance. But now, now they finally had time for breakfasts and dinners and all the other things they’d never gotten to do and experience together. The thought swept over him like a tidal wave, all the love and joy and hurt and grief of the past few years swirling together as one and Steve had to take a deep breath to steady himself. This was not a sad moment and it was not a sad memory, he reminded himself. And most importantly, they were here now, and there was a lovely dinner just waiting to be eaten.
Everything else they’d figure out in time.
Peggy looked up, her eyes meeting his. He could tell she understood even if she didn’t say anything, just quietly reached out her hand to lace her fingers with his, squeezing gently.
Steve cleared his throat and squeezed back.
“I enlisted Pepper’s help for the dinner actually,” he admitted, steering her towards the living room. There was a smile on Peggy’s face when she spotted the carefully set table and she turned around to quickly peck Steve on the lips.
“Seems like you’ve learned a thing or two about women after all,” she said fondly.
Steve told Peggy to sit down at the table while he got their food, and she only protested a bit.
It was beautiful to watch Peggy’s expression of quiet joy as he set the food on the table. There was lobster au gratin for a starter and then a main course of turkey, roast and mashed potatoes, carrots, peas and brussels sprouts, yorkshire pudding and gravy that Steve was very certain had not come from a box.
They ate in comfortable silence. At last, Peggy sat down her fork decisively and declared herself too full to eat even just another bite.
“Not even dessert?” Steve asked with a small glint in his eyes.
“Depends,” Peggy replied. “What’s for dessert?”
“You’ll see,” he said as he got up from the table and started collecting their dinner plates.
Peggy made a move to get up to help him, shooting Steve a dirty look when he quickly snatched her plate away from her.
“You prepared everything,” she tried to reason. “At least let me help you clear the table.”
“No,” he said stubbornly. “And it’s not like I spent hours slaving away in the kitchen. I promise you can help all you want tomorrow, but this evening is for you and you’re not helping today.”
“You know, you still can’t give me orders,” Peggy said pointedly, but she sat back down anyway. She sighed heavily when Steve gave her a cheeky grin as he grabbed her cutlery and set it on top of the stack of plates.
“Of course I can, I’m a Captain,” he retorted, mirroring the words he’d said to her all those years ago. He picked up the stack of plates and carried them to the kitchen.
Peggy shook her head softly, but she couldn’t help the smile that crept onto her face.
While she waited for Steve to come back, she glanced around the room. The first time she’d come here, she’d been shocked at how bare it looked. The furniture was sturdy and comfortable enough, but there were hardly any personal touches. Over the course of the last months, this had changed. It had mostly been her doing. She’d been the one to drag Steve to flea markets and small, stuffy antique stores, all under the guise of finding things for herself. They’d picked out a comfortable armchair together that had reminded Peggy of the one her father used to have, and he’d even added a few decorative pillows at her suggestion. At a gallery opening for up and coming local artists, they’d found a few paintings that now adorned the walls. There were photos, too, mostly of her or the two of them together, but also a few group shots that included varying members of the Avengers and two old black and white pictures, yellowed with age, that showed Steve with the Howling Commandos.
How much things had changed for both of them in the span of a year.
On Christmas Eve a year ago, she’d sat at the table in the tiny apartment she’d shared with Colleen with a cup of tea and a glass of whiskey, her heart feeling heavy with grief and loneliness. As she’d stared out into the night, she’d let herself dream, just for one short moment, that in the new year, Howard would somehow manage to find Steve and that miraculously, thanks to the serum he’d still be alive. She’d known it was foolish to hope for something so unrealistic except somehow, somehow it hadn’t been unrealistic at all.
She may not have found Steve in 1946 but they had found each other here, in a future that they’d both been thrust into, albeit in very different ways.
This Christmas Eve, neither of them would be alone. And there wouldn’t be a war on, either. No constant fear of harm and death. For the first time in a long while they’d be able to simply enjoy it, together. It was a wonderful feeling, despite all the hurt, all the grief that still accompanied it.
She was pulled from her thoughts by the arrival of Steve, who was carrying a covered dish.
“Ta da,” he said as he set it on the table and pulled back the lid to reveal a Christmas pudding, complete with brandy butter. He looked very pleased with himself and Peggy couldn’t help but laugh, instantly feeling lighter.
Steve beamed back at her, but made no move to sit down. “I have one more surprise in store for you,” he said secretively.
He walked over to the cupboard in the corner, extracting something from the top drawer. Turning around, he held it out to her and Peggy smiled as she saw what it was.
“Christmas crackers,” she exclaimed excitedly. Steve nodded and set them down on the table. He moved to sit down but impulsively, Peggy snatched him by the lapels of his shirt and pulled him down for a kiss. His right hand came up to cup her jaw and she smiled into the kiss as a feeling of warmth and contentedness spread through her.
“Thank you,” she said sincerely once he’d pulled back and sat back down. “I hadn’t realized just how much I’d missed a proper English roast dinner. This is delightful.”
He grinned at her, blue eyes sparkling in the candle light, and covered her hand with his, squeezing gently.
“You’re welcome.”
It was an unusually warm Christmas Eve. Peggy hated snow and thus wasn’t too heartbroken about it, even if she’d read enough about the Climate crisis by this point to know the warm weather was a bad thing. Steve, on the other hand, had been really disappointed.
“Hopefully there’ll be snow next year,” Peggy said as they strolled through Prospect Park that afternoon, their hands linked. She was wearing a light sweater and had opened her coat, but she was still feeling quite warm. Steve, who had rolled up the sleeves of his thin sweatshirt, seemed to concur.
“Yeah, hopefully,” Steve replied. “I want a rematch of that snowball fight of 1944.”
Peggy smirked at him. “Are you so eager to be defeated again?”
Steve shrugged. “I’m not worried about that,” he said nonchalantly. “And I’ll get Natasha on my team.”
Peggy raised her eyebrow at that. “If anything, Natasha will be on my team.” A teasing grin appeared on her face. “But what I am really hearing, Captain, is that you are simply too afraid to take me on yourself.”
“Only because you always cheat,” Steve shot back.
“I do not cheat,” Peggy replied, looking genuinely offended at the insinuation. “Though I do admit I may have enlisted the help of Dugan and Dernier to distract you just a little bit that time.”
“I knew it!” Steve exclaimed triumphantly. “And that’s exactly why Natasha will be on my team.”
They had settled on Chinese take-out for dinner. It was one of Peggy’s favourite things about the future, and Steve was all too happy to indulge her. Now they sat on the couch with Peggy tucked into Steve’s side, feeling all-around sated and comfortable.
Looking up into Steve’s eyes, Peggy raised her hand to trace it slowly along Steve’s jaw. He leaned into her touch, then turned his head to press a soft kiss to her palm.
“Thank you, my darling,” Peggy said, pulling back slightly so she could properly look at him. “This has been wonderful. All of it.” She smiled. “In fact, this may have been the best Christmas of my life.”
“Yeah?” Steve asked softly.
“Yes,” Peggy nodded earnestly. “Even better than the Christmas when I was five years old and my brother gave me one of his swords as a gift. My mother was horrified.” She sat up straighter and grinned a bit mischievously. “Of course, that also means I have very high expectations for next Christmas now.”
Steve laughed, a deep and heartfelt sound that vibrated through her. “Hopefully I won’t disappoint then.”
Peggy beamed widely at him, dimples showing, but then her expression turned a bit more serious.
“You couldn’t,” she said firmly. She lowered her hand and squeezed his arm. “Seriously Steve, as lovely as this has been and as much as I appreciate why you were doing it, all I really needed was to spend Christmas with you.”
Steve smiled back at her and grabbed her hand in his, lacing their fingers together. They sat quietly for a moment, simply watching the lights on the tree until at last, Steve broke the silence by softly starting to hum the tune of All I Want For Christmas Is You.
It took Peggy a moment to recognize the song.
“No,” she said decisively once she did.
Steve just smirked. “What?” he said with mock confusion. “It’s a classic.”
Peggy threw him an exasperated look. “It most certainly is not. While there are a great many things I appreciate about this century, like Chinese take-out, for example,” she gestured to the take-out cartons that were still scattered all over the table, “modern Christmas music is absolutely not one of them.”
Steve had to grin at the vehemence in her voice. He extracted himself from Peggy’s embrace and leaned forward to grab his phone from the couch table. He tapped at the screen and a moment later, music filled the room.
“Better?” he asked.
“Much!”
Putting the phone back on the table, Steve got up from the couch. He held out his hand and Peggy took it with a smile, letting Steve pull her into his embrace. She rested her head on his chest with a content sigh as they swayed around the room to the gentle tunes of Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas.
At last, Steve pulled back slightly.
“I didn’t even know that this was a British tradition before,” he said. “But now I think it’s got to be my favourite one.”
Peggy raised her eyebrow quizzically, but it quickly morphed into a smile when she followed Steve’s gaze to the ceiling and saw the sprig of mistletoe that he’d hung from the lamp and that he had cleverly manoeuvered them under.
“Who would have guessed?” she replied, voice low and teasing. “Well, you better kiss me then. After all, it would be back luck not to.”
Grinning brightly, Steve stepped impossibly closer. He leaned forward but instead of kissing her on the mouth, he pressed his lips to her temple first, then the tip of the nose and her right cheek. He pulled back again, his mouth merely an inch from hers and Peggy couldn’t stop the soft yearning sound that escaped her throat.
“Merry Christmas, Peggy,” Steve said and then finally, finally pressed his lips to hers. It was the most gentle of kisses and Peggy sighed into it, her hands coming up to the back of Steve’s head to pull him closer still.
“Merry Christmas, Steve,” she replied, slightly breathless, when they finally broke apart. She wrapped her arms more firmly around him and rested her head back on his chest. This new world still seemed strange to her and there was so much she still missed and mourned but at this moment, wrapped tightly in Steve’s embrace, she found that she couldn’t feel anything but completely and utterly happy.