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It was a dimly lit, abandoned warehouse on the edge of town. The air was thick with the scent of rust and old wood, heavy with the smell of decay. The low hum of flickering lights echoed in the silence, broken only by distant sounds of sirens and street noise from far outside. Inside, there was the soft metallic clink of chains and tools, signs of a brutal history of interrogations and failed attempts.
Dottie had been there for hours—maybe days—bound to a chair, bruised and battered from a series of torturous questions.
"You actually believe that you’ve got a friend in Peggy Carter... A woman that would see you hanged if she could arrange it. It’s pathetic." The old man’s voice dripped with disdain, the glint of a syringe catching the dim light as he held it up, letting her see the murky liquid inside.
Dottie chuckled, even as she tasted the blood in her mouth. "Seriously? A cheap truth serum? I thought you’d at least try to surprise me." Her voice, low and mocking, hid the sharp edge of pain. She was a well-trained assassin by Red Room—she’d survived far worse than this.
"Better than any serum you’d dream of." He sneered, thrusting the needle into her arm. The sting of the injection was nothing compared to the fire that followed, spreading through her veins, leaving her dizzy, vision blurring.
The man leaned close, his face inches from hers as he snarled, "What does Peggy Carter want?"
Dottie’s vision swam, but her smirk didn’t fade. "You’re going to have to do better than that. Ever tried a little finesse?"
His face twisted in frustration, and he struck her hard across the cheek, the sharp impact sending her head snapping back. She felt the warmth of blood trickling from her lip, but her smile was still there, mocking him. "You’ve got quite the arm. Must be all those years of practice... failing."
He scowled, his face darkening as he gripped her jaw, forcing her to look at him. "Let’s see how long you can keep that smug look. Everyone breaks eventually."
Dottie met his gaze, her voice soft and laced with venom. "Maybe. But not today. And not for you." She wouldn’t give the man a thing. Not about Peggy. Never about Peggy.
The old man was unsatisfied. After he gave Dottie one last punch on her face, he just decided to go out for a break, leaving Dottie in the dark, cold room, half-delirious and bleeding, with nothing but the taste of blood in her mouth.
Minutes later, the door creaked open, the sound of heels clicking against the concrete floor—the unmistakable step of her.
Peggy’s footsteps grew louder as she approached, the faint light from the door framing her silhouette before she stepped into the shadows, revealing her face. Her expression was a mixture of determination, fear, and something softer that she couldn't quite hide.
"Aw… Peggy, I knew you’d come to save me." Dottie’s voice was a playful purr, even though her head was spinning. She flashed a crooked smile, blood still on her lip as she studied Peggy with that same familiar spark.
Peggy’s jaw tightened, but she didn’t look away as she knelt beside Dottie, fingers working swiftly at the ropes binding her wrists. "Don’t flatter yourself, Dottie. I’m the one who got you out of prison, and I’ll be the one sending you right back."
Dottie’s grin widened, her eyes flickering over Peggy with an almost lazy, knowing gaze. "No, you won’t."
Peggy’s hands stilled, her brow furrowing as she shot Dottie a sharp look. "Beg your pardon?"
Dottie leaned in, voice low, almost teasing. "You came alone… which means you didn’t tell Sousa. Or that charming little butler." She tilted her head, noting the faint smudge of lipstick Peggy had applied with uncharacteristic care. "And second, you went through all the trouble to do your makeup, and wear that dress. So… let me guess—did you tell them you had a date?"
Peggy’s cheeks flushed almost imperceptibly as Dottie continued, voice silken, "Don’t deny it, Peggy. You’ve got other plans for me, haven’t you?"
Peggy’s lips pressed into a thin line, but she didn’t meet Dottie’s gaze, focusing instead on loosening the ropes. "You think you know everything, don’t you?"
"Only the things that matter." Dottie’s eyes sparkled, leaning close, her voice dropping to a whisper as Peggy finally freed her wrists. "Like the fact that you came for me."
"Just save your breath, okay? Our priority now is to get out of here."
"Fine."
With a final tug, Peggy loosened the last knot, and the ropes slipped free from Dottie’s ankles. Dottie stood, but the dizziness hit hard, her legs unsteady. She swayed, her body tipping forward just as Peggy’s hands shot out, catching her.
"I got you. I got you." Peggy murmured, her voice a gentle reassurance as she held Dottie close, one arm steadying her around the waist. Dottie’s smirk softened, and for a fleeting moment, she let herself lean into Peggy’s hold.
But that spark returned, and she flashed Peggy a mischievous grin. "You always know how to sweep me off my feet, don’t you, Peggy?"
Peggy rolled her eyes, though her cheeks colored faintly. "Seriously? Are you flirting with me, Dottie?"
Dottie chuckled, saying nothing.
As they stepped out of the door, the echo of footsteps down the hall froze them both. A low, urgent whisper escaped Peggy. "We need to go. Now."
Without a word, Dottie slipped her hand into Peggy’s and led her down a narrow corridor, ducking into the shadows just as two guards rounded the corner. The footsteps grew louder, and Dottie moved swiftly, pulling Peggy into a dark alcove. Pressed chest-to-chest in the confined space, Dottie pinned Peggy gently against the wall, her lips just inches away, close enough that Peggy could feel her warm breath on her cheek.
In the darkness, Peggy’s eyes widened, her breath catching. "What the hell are you doing, Dottie?" she whispered, though her voice trembled slightly.
Dottie’s lips curled into a smile, her voice a low murmur. "Trying not to be spotted. Unless, of course, you’d like me to leave you out here?"
Peggy’s mouth opened in protest, but Dottie silenced her by brushing a soft, lingering kiss against her flushed cheek. The warmth of Dottie’s lips against her skin sent a shiver down Peggy’s spine, her heart skipping a beat.
"I can even feel your cheeks are burning hot, Agent Carter." Dottie teased, her tone soft, almost intimate. Peggy’s breath hitched, her usual resolve faltering in the shadows as Dottie lingered close, her voice a barely-there whisper against Peggy’s ear.
The footsteps faded, leaving them alone, but Dottie didn’t pull away, her gaze fixed on Peggy with that familiar spark, hands still on her waist. And Peggy, despite every warning in her head, found herself unable to look away.
"I think you need to let go of me."
A wicked smile curved onto Dottie’s lips as she reluctantly released Peggy, only to slip in a playful pinch on Peggy’s hip. Peggy jerked back, shooting Dottie an indignant glare.
"So, where are we going?" Dottie asked, undeterred, her eyes gleaming with mischief. "Since we’re all alone, no backup…"
Peggy cleared her throat, pretending to dust off her clothes. "I have a safe house nearby." She said, not meeting Dottie’s gaze. "Now if you don’t mind, we need to move. Quickly."
They slipped out into the night, but luck wasn’t on their side—guards spotted them, and gunfire erupted from behind. They ducked, taking cover behind a nearby car as bullets riddled the air.
"Please tell me you brought extra weapons." Dottie said with a smirk, casting a quick glance toward Peggy.
"Here." Peggy, crouched behind the car, reached into her coat and tossed a small vintage pistol to Dottie.
"You just know me too well, Peggy Carter." Dottie’s grin widened as she caught it, admiration flashing in her eyes.
Peggy rolled her eyes, already too focused on restarting the car to respond. Dottie didn’t hesitate, slipping into action as her shots rang out, taking down one guard, then another with that deadly precision she had perfected.
But as Peggy struggled with the car’s ignition, a glint from a rooftop caught Dottie’s eye—a sniper taking aim directly at Peggy. With barely a second’s thought, Dottie lunged, positioning herself in front of Peggy just as the bullet whizzed by, grazing her shoulder. She fired back in quick succession, taking the sniper down in one fluid motion. She barely flinched, blood trickling down her arm.
Peggy glanced up, eyes wide. "Dottie?! Are you—"
"Keep working on that car," Dottie interrupted, her voice light, as if the injury meant nothing. She winked, a mischievous smile tugging at her lips. "I’ve had worse."
Peggy’s jaw clenched, but she returned her focus to the car, finally getting it to sputter to life. Dottie slid into the passenger seat, wincing slightly as she held her bleeding shoulder, but the gleam in her eyes never faded. They had sped off into the night, the echoes of gunfire fading behind them.
"You got shot..." There were some quivers in Peggy's voice. Her eyes were trying to focus on the road instead of Dottie's wound.
"It's just a scratch. No big deal." Dottie said with a smirk.
"..."
When they reached Peggy’s safe house, Peggy led Dottie inside, not saying a word as she fetched a first-aid kit.
As Dottie sat on the couch, Peggy knelt beside Dottie, gently pulling the torn fabric back from her shoulder, her fingers grazing Dottie’s skin as she dabbed at the wound with a cloth. "You didn’t have to do that, you know."
Dottie chuckled, leaning into Peggy’s touch. "Oh, I know. But I rather like the idea of saving you, Peggy. Keeps things interesting."
Peggy shook her head, but her hands were steady, carefully bandaging the wound. Dottie’s gaze never left her, a faint smirk playing on her lips.
"You care about me, don’t you?" Dottie murmured, her voice laced with a teasing warmth as her gaze fixed on Peggy.
"Don’t push your luck, Dottie." Peggy’s cheeks flushed, but she didn’t look up.
"Too late," Dottie whispered, reaching up to tuck a stray lock of Peggy’s hair behind her ear. "I already know."
"Just shut up." Peggy’s lips tightened, but she didn’t pull away. Instead, she lifted a cloth, dabbing away the blood that had dried on Dottie’s cheek. Her voice dropped to a softer tone.
"In case you didn't know, I told them nothing." A faint smirk pulled at Dottie’s lips as Peggy finished wrapping the wound.
"I never thought you would." Peggy’s eyes flicked to hers, unreadable yet intent.
Her fingers lingered, tracing along Dottie’s jaw just a moment longer, and Dottie’s smirk softened as she leaned into Peggy’s touch. Her eyes gleamed, both mocking and daring Peggy to pull back.
"I’m sorry you had to go through that," Peggy whispered, a glimmer of something deeper in her gaze. "No one deserves—"
"Come on, Peggy." Dottie’s voice was light, but her eyes held something fierce. "You know I’ve been through worse." She tilted her head, her smirk returning, daring Peggy to keep that gentle hand on her face. "You don’t need to protect me… but I rather like that you want to." Her voice dropped, almost a purr. "Always the noble knight, hm? With a little flaw in that armor, I’d say."
Peggy’s breath hitched, and her hand faltered, but her lips curved into a challenge. "You just can’t stop talking, can you?"
Dottie’s gaze was unyielding, her lips hovering inches from Peggy’s. "Or maybe," she whispered, her voice a slow, seductive drawl, "you could make me."
Peggy’s resolve faltered, her hand hovering just close enough to touch, but instead of a kiss, she drew back, trying to regain her composure. Dottie, however, wasn’t having it. Her fingers tightened around Peggy’s wrist, and in one smooth, decisive motion, she pulled her in, closing the distance.
Before Peggy could protest, Dottie’s lips pressed against hers, soft yet purposeful, a kiss that held none of the malice from their first. When she finally pulled back, her eyes glimmered with mischief, her smirk that maddening blend of charm and danger.
"Since our first kiss was all business… After all, I was trying to kill you back then." Dottie’s voice dropped to a near-purr, her thumb tracing Peggy’s cheek as she whispered, "Consider this my way of making it up to you."
For a moment, Peggy was silent, her lips parted, eyes locked on Dottie with a mixture of surprise and something else that lingered, unspoken. But then, with a quiet sigh that sounded almost like surrender, Peggy kissed her back. Her lips were hesitant at first, then grew bolder, almost defiant, as if she were making a statement, not just to Dottie, but to herself.
Dottie’s hand slid to Peggy’s waist, drawing her close, the smirk fading into something deeper. And though Peggy’s cheeks were flushed, she didn’t pull back—she couldn’t. Instead, her fingers slipped up to Dottie’s jaw, tracing gently, as if memorizing every line.
Finally, Peggy broke the kiss, her breath uneven, her eyes searching Dottie’s face, almost questioning, as if to ask how she’d ever let herself get here, in the arms of a woman she should despise.
But Dottie merely gave her that wicked smile, one eyebrow arched. "Oh, Peggy…" she whispered, her voice low, "Just admit it, you love me."
Peggy’s lips tightened, almost as if to deny it, but the flush in her cheeks betrayed her, and Dottie knew she’d won, at least for this stolen moment. And perhaps, so did Peggy.