She's hard to forget from the war. The stubborn nurse who always gave Dum Dum a run for his money when he came back from an op or just drinking with a new injury. Forcing the bigger man into submission long enough to be treated. He got to know her more when he had to hold Dum Dum down during certain procedures. Things where four hands were required. Steve Rogers never leaves a man to suffer alone. She rebuffs nearly every advance made on her by Bucky or any other soldier. She can keep a tent full of soldiers quiet long enough to make medical announcements. She's something special.
He remembers saying goodbye to her at HQ. After planning the assault on Red Skull. He gave her a smile and said he'd be back for an exit physical when this was all over. With Red Skull out of the way getting after Hitler would become much easier. War could end. But his plane goes down and Steve wakes up in a whole new world. Cold and different than what he's grown used to. He settles into the new swing of things. Treading water a bit here and there, but ultimately Captain America stays busy. Like he always should.
The Avengers are the ones that notices the disturbance. The vibrations shifting and the smallest hole being ripped through the dimension. Not even Steve fully understands the science, but Tony's practically foaming at the mouth. Bruce following behind him equally as excited, but less obvious about it. When they track down the anomaly Steve is the only one to recognize her. It's a beat or two before Natasha recognizes her from old SHIELD reports she'd memorized years before. But it doesn't make sense to her. It doesn't make sense to him either. But she's there. Just like he remembers.
Escorting her back to the compound is quick and painless. He sets her up in a room and leaves her to collect herself. Whatever she needs. He doesn't want to crowd too close. Overwhelm her. Tony and Bruce start in on finding her a way back. Trying to understand what happened and turn fiction into science. Neither wanting to believe fairies were responsible for anything. Natasha loans her clothes and Clint stays back. No real vested interest. Thor however is more jolly than he should be and likely comes by too often to check on her status and ask if she needs food. Eventually Steve turns the big guy away.
He knocks quickly on her door hoping to check up on her himself. Maybe talk if she needs it. Explain exactly what happened with a little more detail.
There's too much noise and too much that's beyond comprehension. Super soldiers she can stomach. It's science. It makes sense. But that one singular thing seems normal in comparison to everything else. There's just one familiar face, one thing that makes any sort of sense in this madness (though the name Stark plastered on so much is enough to catch her attention, too), and Claire's alarmingly quiet throughout it all. Not herself. Shell shocked. She recognizes that much. Better to shut it down, stop the panic, and when the time comes she'll sort it all out.
Except it takes quite a long time for that to happen. There's a lot of people. A lot of strange things.
She's fiddling with her new clothing when there's a knock. Claire's quite a bit taller than Natasha, less curves, and so the clothes hang awkwardly on her frame and she's glad there's at least a long, cozy robe to wrap around the shirt that's not quite long enough to cover her middle and the jeans that just barely stay at her hips while not managing to get to her ankles. It's enough for now.
She expects Tony or Bruce or Thor--he's the most difficult of the group to swallow, really--and so it's with a barely withheld sigh that she goes to open the door.
"Really, I'm fi--oh. Hello." How awkward. She's very much not fine and very much obviously relieved to see Steve instead of Thor, and she minds her manners after a long moment, stepping back so that he can enter.
He still hasn't told her everything. Tony's apparent connection to Howard probably something she might have deduced, but he's happy to explain. He's happy to tell her what happened to Howard later. She likely deserves to know. He'll bring her up to speed on Peggy and the ultimate twist that was Bucky's fate. There's so much he'll have to tell her, but he's not looking to overwhelm her with information. He doubts she'd be able to handle it that well given everything else she's had to swallow.
Steve musters up a smile. Though maybe muster isn't the right word with her. It's easy to smile seeing her. Mostly because she's one of the few faces from his time that hasn't changed. Bucky's doesn't count. Despite the lack of aging things aren't the same there. "Hi." He waits for a nonverbal invitation before stepping into her space. A soft chuckle escaping as she proceeds to describe it as her cell. Steve looks around for a moment before letting his gaze settle on her.
"Most cells don't come with televisions or wifi. But I've only seen a few." He shrugs. "How're you--uh--" He struggles to find the right word. Running through a list of them in order to describe this situation. He knows it's disorienting. He knows that better than most. "--I guess coping? I know it's a lot. I felt the same way when I woke up."
"Wifi. The internet." Look, someone explained things to her. Not that there was much comprehension there when she was given a child's explanation of how to choose something to watch and something called a "Netflix." She's not really done more than sit on the edge of her bed and and stare at each object in the room. A place she retreats to now, sitting gingerly and trying to look braver than she feels.
"Then I suppose you know how I'm coping." Not great, but what other option is there but to try and do better? A deep breath heaves her shoulders and she shakes her head. "Everything I know is gone. I belong in a museum."
Tony will probably come around with a crash course. He's better with that stuff. He understands it. Probably knows how to explain it to people of a certain age. People that didn't grow up with it. For as sarcastic and smug as Tony can seem he does know how to talk. Especially about things that he's passionate about. These days he's squashed a little of the obnoxious ego, but it still rolls under the surface. He just hopes that he keeps it in check around Claire. She probably needs more than ego and smarmy remarks at this point.
"Said to the guy that's actually in one." He shakes his head. "Smithsonian. Long story." That exhibit still makes him pause. So much of his life on display. He wonders just how serious the world takes him at times. "The feeling of everything being gone doesn't ever go away. Especially when you have walking reminders like Tony. It's hard not to look at him and see Howard, but it gets bearable with each day." He wants to make it better, but he knows it just takes time. "You're not alone, Claire. I know it feels like you are, but you aren't."
"That must mean you aren't alone, either." She's not sure how long he's been here. Long enough to have a place in the world, even when he's from another time entirely. A wry smile as she bites back something that might smart. You have it easier. He's a hero. Her?
"Suppose I can't just wander into a hospital and find something to do. I'm outdated." The world doesn't need a World War II nurse. A hero? Apparently it can't have enough. She shakes her head and looks down at her hands folded on her lap. Her hands shake when they're not clasping one another.
"They're not going to be able to find a way to send me back, are they?"
He bites his tongue. Almost explaining that for some time he was alone. Surrounded by SHIELD agents and Fury. People telling him it'll be okay and that he just needs to properly slide back into the world. But not one of them understood the difficulty of it all. Seeing the world so drastically changed. It didn't matter if he was a hero once upon a time before the ball got rolling he was Steve Rogers. The world had forgotten about Captain America.
Steve shakes his head quickly. "You're not outdated, Claire. You're just a little behind." He refuses to admit that. She was one of the smartest nurses he knew back during the war. Quick thinking. Clever. She always had the answer. "You're surrounded by a bunch of people who get shot at constantly. We could use a few more hands that know how to patch up a bullet wound. We'll get you caught up if you want." Tony can make miracles happen. Bruce as well.
There's a heavy sigh that unintentionally falls from his lips. "Truthfully I don't know. I wanna say yes. Tony built a suit that flies from metal. Bruce turns into a giant green monster. Thor's trying to find another tear out there. He's a god. You're surrounded by a lot of impossible people. They sort of specialize in this. We're not gonna give up on you. You have my word."
She lifts an eyebrow at that. A little? Medically speaking, she might as well be from the middle ages. But she understands that he's trying to help, trying to make her feel better, and though she doubts anything can do that right now, she appreciates the effort. He's always been a sweetheart. Good to see that hasn't changed.
"And if I do go back, what? They'll think I'm mad. That Captain America is now in 2000-something, and I've been there to see it." She motions at the room around them. "How am I supposed to explain all this, or simply go on as usual? And what stops me from screwing up history?"
Maybe a little isn't the right way to put it, but Steve knows she's smart enough to catch on. She was one of the smartest women he knew back then. She could easily catch up on what she needed. Tony would figure something out for her. Some way to fast track and apply the knowledge she had before to things now. He knows it seems bleak now for her, but that's just the fear talking. Eventually her instincts will kick in.
"I doubt Howard or Peggy will think you're crazy. Howard's always been a forward thinker." Steve gives a light raise of his shoulders. Not entirely sure that he has all the answers she wants. He's just as empty and lost as the rest of them. "I don't know, Claire. Maybe one day you'll make things better if that happens."
They aren't, but he doesn't want to lie to her. He doesn't want to pretend he has all the answers. Because it's not the truth. But one thing Steve does know is that he'll figure this out for her and with her. Together. He's not gonna stop until he can make this easier on her.
He steps towards the bed and takes a seat. He reaches out tentatively and presses a warm hand to the middle of her back. "Don't apologize. I know I don't have the answers now, but that doesn't mean we won't find them. It's just gonna take some time."
The touch goes mostly unnoticed, though she does lift her head to look at him. "And until then? I doubt anyone here is going to let me wander down the street with how quickly you all brought me here. What if I meet... some descendant of mine? Or stumble into some nursing home and find myself, if I somehow manage to cling to life this long?"
( being a superhero comes fairly easy to kara. well, the hero part comes easily to her, at least — the billowing cape, the selfless application of skill and strength for the betterment of her city (and country, and even her planet, lately), and the courage to do the right thing even when it hurts. it's the super part that trips her up. being a public figure, one with no privacy, no right to have a bad day or a mess-up, has always been the challenge for kara.
she's been lucky enough to have cat grant in her corner. catco has always protected supergirl in the media, dissuaded the lowbrow paparazzi-fueled stories that would paint her as anything less than the good girl they've cast her to be. supergirl is the bronzed heroine of their digital age, practically the stuff of legends. her place is in national city, defending the helpless and protecting the weak.
so it comes as a bit of a surprise to kara to find herself summoned to new york city out of the blue one summer afternoon, the address in her dossier leading her to the gleaming glass front of avenger tower. supergirl isn't exactly inconspicious, but at least arriving from the air brings her to the flight deck rather than the ground-floor level; as much as she doesn't mind taking pictures or signing autographs in her cape and skirt, sometimes it's nice to have a quiet entrance for a change.
not that the quiet lasts very long, because it never really does for her. no, the quiet lasts only for a moment, because as soon as she pushes open the doors, there's a high-strung woman in a suit greeting her, talking a mile a minute and guiding her with a tentative hand to her arm into a small conference room where, judging by the sudden hush that falls over the room, it's clear she's the last to arrive.
the meeting itself is brief, almost clinically straightforward; kara can only listen with increasing flustered expressions as the public relations representative explains exactly why the avengers — technically, s.h.i.e.l.d., but "the semantics aren't important here" — have requested supergirl via interagency loan. the public's perception of "superheroes" has reached a critical low. they need a public relations boost, and after intense research and investigation, they've found the simplest option will be the best: love. not real love, though. fake love. pretend love. it works for celebrities. the public eats it up. they don't care if it's real or not, they just want to believe it.
and with that, kara's left alone (or rather, they're left alone) to resign herself to the reality of her situation, to review the copy of the dossier she hadn't bothered to read yet. she'd assumed there would be time to read and voice her objections upon arrival; if she'd taken the time to read before flying, she might have had a chance to protest to j'onn. now, though, it was too late — his signature as her supervising officer was already there, black and white on the faxed copy, and with it, her fate was sealed.
whether kara liked it or not, she was going to date steve rogers. or, rather, supergirl was going to date captain america. starting that day, because time was apparently of the essence, and they had a photo op in a park to create. )
I know you said 'don't be a stranger', but I didn't think this is what you meant.
[ The Avengers and SHIELD have always had a strained relationship. But SHIELD had a lot of rebuilding and rebranding to do after Steve found out HYDRA was still bubbling up within the ranks. It was chaos. Chaos and tragedy that left an agency he believed in as a smoldering pile of ash. Decimated by a fight that nearly killed Steve if Bucky hadn't pulled him from the river. Despite Sam's reservations about Bucky he knows that he realizes that deep down there's a man still in there. Hidden under brainwashing and abuse. Which is why he's been hunting for Steve while he remains in the city. Dealing with people and Avenger missions that take him global.
It's no big secret that the public is scared. Scared that the Avengers all somehow have some sort of dark association to HYDRA and what they managed to accomplish in seventy years. Hidden in plain sight. Natasha released documents after documents. A lot of them encrypted. Too difficult to decipher, but that wasn't the point. What mattered at the time was transparency. Making themselves visible so that the public could decide on their own. But since the fall and rebuild of SHIELD they've been hurting severely. The government doesn't trust them and the public is scared. They need something.
Of course it falls on Steve. Tony is dating Pepper. Sam is not technically an Avenger. Not to mention he's out of the country right now. Natasha--well, he'd like to see anyone try to tell Natasha who she should date. The same goes for Bruce Banner. Thor is with Jane. Clint was suspiciously avoided in this instance. Steve isn't sure why and he doesn't ask. But Steve is single. He's single and he's a public figure they can trust given what he did to dissolve HYDRA back in his day and what he did to stop them now. He gave up a lot.
But here they are. Playing a game that Steve didn't know would one day be apart of being Captain America. He thought his days of being a dancing monkey were done. Finished being a media whore with no real say in what he does and says. But it could be worse he figures. It could be someone from within his own team. Seeing as how the only one was Natasha and possible Maria Hill he was just happy they reached out elsewhere. Those things made work difficult. ]
What can I say? I like to keep you on your toes.
[ He would have preferred a meeting that wasn't forced, but it's nice to see her again. ]
[ one might argue that a spy shouldn’t become a creature of habit—at least, not unless her habits are born of paranoia, distrust, or a cautionary spirit. but, ever since the ssr fell in ’49 and shield began only shortly after, her days and nights have taken a different shape to those she once spent as an active field agent. peggy carter still carries a pistol—a ppk—and she still packs a helluva punch—a right hook, by preference—but she nowadays she spends most of her time grappling with…paperwork.
well, paperwork and routine. and hers had become a rather steady one this past year: she wakes up before her alarm; she applies her war paint; she boils a pot of water for tea; she tends to a modest flock of house-plants lining the modest front window of her modest house. true, the house is downright palatial in comparison to the kinds of lodging houses where she used to reside during her ssr days—but it was still simple and efficient. it passed muster.
some mornings, howard sends a car to take her to the office. but other mornings (most mornings!) peggy endeavors to walk two blocks to a bus stop. when stark presses her on the matter, she smiles slyly and insists it’s important to stay grounded—connected—to the community surrounding their secretive little headquarters. there is a core tenant, a kind of inspiration, at the heart of their fledgling agency and peggy can’t imagine its role model would approve if it became a kind of ivory tower holding court way way way above the people it hoped to protect.
—so it’s a wednesday morning, a touch on the dreary side, and she’s leaning against her open front door with a cuppa cradled in both hands. her briefcase sits by her feet and those feet are (of course) well-heeled. the whole of her is well-heeled, in point of fact, in a skirt and blouse that would better befit someone from the secretarial pool than a decorated spy. peggy takes another deep sip, inhales a bit of the day, and watches her street with keen interest before checking her wristwatch.
ten minutes. she’s got ten minutes to stand and watch her street stir to life. ten minutes until she’s even has to start thinking about catching her bus. ]
[ It's been a very long time since Steve has actually decided to do something for himself. Not something that happened to help him, but ultimately was for others. No. Something that was maybe a little bit selfish and a little bit reckless. But it's been a long time coming and maybe Steve's just tired of having to sacrifice every ounce of his soul just to keep the world spinning. If he learned anything from the final face off against Thanos it was that the world was going to be protected. People were out there. Good people. They lost two, but they gained more. It gave Steve the hope that he could let the shield gather some dust and maybe find some peace. It's been a lifetime of war for him really.
If you asked him what he'd do if he hung it up it wouldn't be go back in time to find happiness. Actually there's no telling what he'd do if he finally stepped away. Or maybe he just wouldn't be able to? He doesn't know. Going back and seeing her was the tipping point. Looking at her made everything worth it. She was the Peggy he remembered. He wanted so badly to call out to her, but he knows that it wouldn't have been a good choice. It would have been cruel knowing there was no way of knowing if he could walk away from everything they were doing in one piece. Losing him once was bad enough. He didn't need to force her to lose him twice just because he wanted to let her know he was there.
This isn't what Bruce or Sam expected from him when he went back. Bucky likely didn't see it coming either. There's no telling what he'll do with his knowledge of Bucky, but for the moment he has eyes for one woman and it's Peggy. He makes the decision when he returns the stone that Bruce grabbed. Not quite that far into the past, but certainly a ways. It's impulsive, selfish, and not even remotely logical, but he knows that it's absolutely going to be worth it. No matter what.
He chose this time period because it lined up with a few things. It's been years since Steve went missing after crashing into the ice. Something he'll no doubt have to talk to Peggy about. After everything they went through with Red Skull and HYDRA he knows that she'll likely not have an issue believing him. Though it might take some doing. He's well aware of what she got up to after his disappearance as well. She did impossible things.
With his arrival meant he had to blend in. The suit he used to jump through time wasn't the best thing to be seen in. After everything with the war and Red Skull he knows people would likely jump to crazy assumptions if he roamed the streets of her town. Not ideal. Breaking into a dry cleaners that hasn't opened yet wasn't really what he wanted, but it made the most sense at the moment. The shirt's a little tight, but the pants are fine. Steve's quick to find a bathroom in a gas station and push his hair back with water. For the first time since he woke up in the ice Steve feels set. He was always the man out of time, but now it's almost like a second chance. A redo.
As he's navigating to her place on foot Steve swipes the first baseball hat that's left unattended. He pulls it down to at least hide himself a bit. It's been maybe close to five years since Steve Rogers went missing. He doesn't want a family taking a stroll identifying him before he can talk to Peggy and possibly Howard at some point. He's carrying tech from the future on him and if he knows Howard then he knows that man is gonna want it in his hands immediately.
The street she lives on is quiet. At least at the moment. It's early and Steve doesn't really try to make eye contact with anyone that might be wandering out to grab their paper. His head is bowed forward and he's doing everything in his power to hide his face. The jacket he's wearing feels tighter the more he tries to fold in on himself to keep people from recognizing him. When he finds himself stopping on the sidewalk in front of her house all he can see are feet on the porch. Heels. If he looks up and this isn't Peggy then he makes eye contact with someone that can potentially point out Captain America to the public. ]
Does Peggy Carter live here? [ He's not disguising his voice or anything. He's really banking on those feet belonging to the woman he loves. ]
[ it’s the sort of question that ought to be considered innocent but, given a helluva lot of context, is anything but. does peggy carter live here? and it takes her a full three seconds to come ‘round to the realization that there’s nothing protected, nothing hidden, about her position these days. privacy isn’t a privilege extended to the director of such an ambitiously founded agency—rather, she must maintain a public presence and in so doing spare her agents the same scrutiny. still! the instinct to protect herself runs deep, and she feels at first a kind of gut-deep unease when a stranger calls her out by her name.
but the stranger doesn’t sound all that strange, does he? concern almost immediately gives ground to curiosity as the notes, the timbre, of his voice settle in her ears. it’s bewitchingly like his. some primal desire in the back of her brain makes her wish and want for what obviously can’t be real. ]
She does.
[ her reply begins distant—cool, detached, and putting on a grand show of not-much-caring even as her guts twist into knots both with knee-jerk caution and a whole host of daydreamish notions.
it’s not until she takes a step back and closely studies the figure standing at her front steps that she stops, furrows her brow, and begins to paint in colours and loose lines of familiarity into the man’s stature. with a prickle of epiphany running down her spine, peggy realizes that she would know those titanic shoulders anywhere. ]
Rather. I-I do. [ she stammers, confirms a very different answer to what she now understands is a very different question, and can feel her own fingers tremble against her half-emptied tea cup. her voice leaps an octave, vulnerable with hope. ] Good heavens, it’s not possible—
[ a car horn honks down the street, startling her posture back into place, and peggy clears her throat. missing only a few beats, she shifts near-seamlessly into a chalky command: ]
[ He's made it risky enough letting himself be exposed to the outside world like this without talking to Peggy and Howard beforehand, but it had to be done this way. He didn't really want to see Howard first. With Howard comes the government and with the government comes the questions. The ones that he will not have easy answers for. He's Steve, but he's not the Steve that they'll remember. Not on the inside. Then again they could choose to not even believe him. Yet he somehow doubts that. No matter how tainted things have gotten inside of the organization he knows that some good still lurks. Something he will most likely see to at some point.
There's a sense of relief when the voice that answers is hers. He'd know it anywhere. Even if he hadn't spent all that time by her bed during her final years. He could remember it without skipping a beat. He'd dream of her. Getting a chance to talk to her. To say goodbye. Only now the reality is he doesn't intend to say goodbye. Not when he's well aware that by now the world doesn't need him. It's time for Steve Rogers to be happy. To find some sense of happiness that'll let him enjoy his life for once. His only regret is that Natasha didn't get a chance to find this for herself. Especially after everything she trudged through.
It doesn't occur to him to keep responding. Instead he just keeps his eyes low and his ears open. Smiling ever so slightly when she seems to add things up without much effort. That was Peggy though. Smartest one in the room. The muscles in Steve's forearm tighten when the car horn honks. He doesn't look in it's direction though. It's not important. At least he's certain it is. She is though. She gives Steve a command and for a moment it's like he's right back in boot. Scrawny and hoping that maybe she'll look his way.
After another moment Steve's head lifts and he takes a step towards her porch. More than a step. He makes it to the second step of the porch steps and looks at her. ] I know it's been a few years, but I was really hoping that you still had time for that dance with me. Better late than never huh?
[ all at once, she’s got two competing inclinations. one, of course, is to simply wave away whatever words he’s got—whatever excuses he offers—and abandon both her tea and her decorum in favour of dragging him into a hard embrace. the other inclination (and the one that wins out) is to carefully listen to every word and carefully observe every action. it’s him, it’s him, it’s undeniably him…except she can’t quite suss out why it’s him, and why it’s now.
he says it’s been a few years. he cops to being late. and peggy, bemused and bewildered, can’t help but mark those words as a tremendous understatement. she suffers from a tremendous defense mechanism, one intended to keep her from feeling altogether too vulnerable, and that mechanism urges her to meet his greeting with a kind of red hot indignation—hell, it even burns briefly in her cheeks.
except it all boils away the moment she looks him in his eyes. bright, undeniable blue and exactly the colour she remembers them to be—even if the spirit behind them seems altered, weathered, aged. peggy’s teeth grind briefly in the back of her mouth and she, with a rather pointed grace, balances her tea cup on the thick metal rail of her front stoop. ]
All this way and all this time, [ she hedges—her voice light and hesitant and trying very hard not to descend into something raw, ] and you’ve got the gall to ask for a dance?
[ her lips press into a line as she thinks about kissing him. her heart rabbits in her chest, generating a hundred little sparks keen to compel her to do anything other than be her exacting, scolding self.
god, seeing him is wonderful. hearing him is wonderful. even-already-only thinking about touching him is wonderful. still, she doesn’t telegraph her joy too loudly—so accustomed is she to guarding her feelings. ]
[ He's had to go through this multiple times now. The first time she was older. She had lived a life that he was never apart of. It was entirely selfish of him to cut that life off at the pass for now. To divert her course because for the first time in Steve's life he wanted to find happiness for himself. That happiness was with Peggy. He didn't want to lose the opportunity he had. There would be no one there with him to talk him into not doing this. Though he very much doubts that Sam or Bucky would have ever tried to really stop Steve from going to be with her. They were both aware of what she meant to him. Bucky more than most. But this meant that he could do so in peace.
It happened over and over whenever her memory would fade. Forcing Steve to endure the way she'd look at him with guilt. Guilt of never finding him. When she used to look at him before it was like she was seeing a ghost. To her Steve had been gone for many years. Longer than this version of her had experienced. She had moved on from him. Then he was thawed out and exposed to the world once more. She suddenly came face to face with a memory that lived in the back of her mind. He cherished those years he got to spend with her, but he wanted more. This version of her though still has a fire. It's been almost five years and while she's grieved and shifted her life forward once more there's a part of her that will likely still be angry at him for what he did in the plane. Possibly for how long he's been gone and where he's been. It'll take some explaining.
Honestly? Steve has to smile. He can't help himself. He moves to the left and steps up onto the porch completely. No longer lingering on the steps. He turns towards her and reaches up to take the baseball cap off. He pushes his hair back and nods his head. ] I thought anything else would be a little too forward. [ He could get lost just looking at her right now. Hearing her voice. Knowing that in a few moments time she won't completely forget he's returned to her. But the sound of someone's front gate clattering shut catches his attention before looking at her. ]
Do you think that maybe we could go inside? I'll tell you everything.
[ peggy cannot even begin to understand the sorts of calculations steve must be making behind his eyes—but does at least believe that they must the both of them be sharing a very mutual feeling of relief. it’s the kind that overwhelms and temporarily drowns most other considerations—that is, right up until she witnesses the way he near jumps out of his skin at the sound of mister noble, her neighbour, shutting his gate and leaving for the day.
his concern is actually something of a blessing; it spares her from tackling the odd, lovely, tempting possibility only winked at when steve says the words too and forward so near to one another.
—with a nod, then, she takes a step back and ushers him inside. peggy manages to collect her briefcase off the ground but neglects the tea cup still balancing on the porch rail. ]
There must be a rather lot to tell if you’re going to tell me everything.
[ she begins to grouse the moment the door is closed behind them. responding to his earlier caution, she breezes beyond him and makes a point to pull the blinds and tug the curtains.
but upon turning to face him: ]
For Christ’s sake, Steve, it’s been years. I— [ i signed the paperwork that reported you as mia, presumed dead.
she clears her throat and reaches out a hand—desperate to grip his arm—but she offers to take his hat and coat instead. ]
I don’t know what to say.
[ lies. she knows all sorts of things she might say—only she can’t yet find the right voice to say them in. ]
[ It would have been foolish and naive of him to expect the typical reunion he'd read about in books and seen in films. But Peggy has never been typical. She's always bucked the mold and it's the reason he fell for her the way he did. She didn't look at Steve the way others did before the serum. She always made him feel bigger than he felt back then. She gave Steve strength and she continued to do so even when he wanted to stop. It's why he kept her photo so close to him for so long. She was the only guidance that he had left for a long time. A north star that he was now standing in front of again for the first time in a long time. She's not bedridden. She's not frail. She's the memory he clung to on sleepless nights.
He follows her into the house and shuts the door. He doesn't immediately jump into speaking. Instead he watches Peggy move around the living room to close blinds and curtains. With no outside light peeking through the room feels oddly atmospheric. Though he's not sure what sort of atmosphere will be taking shape. He has some inkling there might be some yelling. Some frustration. Some sadness. Very likely that all these emotions will come from the both of them. ]
It's okay. I get it.
[ Steve shrugs off his coat and hangs it off along with the baseball cap. He crosses his arms over his chest which makes the tight shirt he borrowed from the dry cleaners look even more ill-fitting. It's not ideal, but silence overcomes Steve and he can't find words. He can't find a way to start this. He doesn't know how to make anything okay. After a sigh he finally forms a sentence after studying her. ]
Ya know I dreamed about this? Getting to talk to you and explain everything. But right now? I don't know where to begin. But it's been a little long than almost five years for me. You should probably have a seat though.
I should have a seat, should I? I'll be the judge of that.
[ peg counters—whip quick and more than a little bit obstinate. and, yes, she is perhaps being contrary on little more than principle. but look at him! standing there, bold as brass, and cutting a figure like every missed opportunity she's ever imagined.
with a sigh of her own, she takes his hat and she takes his jacket and she hangs it on a row of hooks next to some of her own things: an umbrella, a silk scarf, a wool coat. but there's something telling in how her fingertips linger on his jacket sleeve, as though she tries to leech warmth—proof of life—from its cloth.
five years...five years! she can't conceive of which assumption is the better one: that he's been lost and captured all this time or whether he's been perfectly safe but not with her.
showing absolutely no intention of sitting down, peggy progresses instead to removing her blazer. rather than hang it up, she tosses it nonchalantly on the back of a chair in her small, modest front room. she proceeds to roll up her sleeves—appearing all the more thunderous for it when she places her hands on her hips. ]
—You're not the only one who's dreamed about this.
[ so goes peggy carter: saying sweet, heartfelt words but spitting them out as if they're venom. it's a confession disguised as an accusation. her lips purse; her eyes darken. ]
[ Stubborn just like always. Even in her older age she was stubborn. She never hesitated to call Steve out on things when she was coherent. He hasn't seen this though in a while. The physical rigid movements. The stance. The way she takes his things to hang them on the hooks. It's all just--her. Steve's probably a little too in touch with his feelings, but Peggy was difficult. She always had him turned around trying to figure out what was between them. Just because Steve understood his feelings didn't mean he understood a damn thing about women. He still doesn't.
For a moment he glances back over his shoulder to watch her hang his things. The muscles in his back tighten as she touches his jacket. It's gentle and something he knows she doesn't want him bringing up or addressing. He's quiet instead and just nods. He turns back to focus ahead of him and despite no longer being in the military he somehow finds himself standing alert. It's strange what muscle memory does. His brain takes one look at her and he knows he needs to remain level headed. For the moment.
He hasn't seen this sort of anger and frustration since Private Lorraine. He's sincerely hoping she doesn't have a gun close at hand. Steve stashed his shield elsewhere in an attempt to blend in. Cant walk around holding that shield and trying to convince people you aren't the long lost superhero that went MIA years ago. ]
If I could have gotten back to you sooner, Peggy, I would have. But at that moment I didn't have the ability to roll back time. [ This isn't how he wanted to do it, but he needs her to know that he didn't abandon her. He didn't go AWOL simply to live a normal life. He had his dream ripped away from him. ] I couldn't get back seventy years to be with you. I wanted to though. I wanted to so badly. [ His voice gets softer. ] I'm sorry.
[ he makes it personal. he says, he describes, how he ought to have gotten back to her sooner. steve crashes straight through the thin veil separating the personal and the professional with his own individual brand of earnestness and integrity—talking like he’s got no choice but to bare the truth of the matter, no choice but to imply that his decision was made with any organ besides his heart.
she clears her throat—having nearly choked on the claim that time had, in any capacity, been rolled back. so peggy hides behind her investigative faculties: one moment he talks about five years, and the next he talks about seventy.
but it all evaporates when he apologizes. her brows knit; her stance shifts. ]
I’ve got three questions. To start.
[ isn’t that her temper abates—far far from it—but she finds a different thrust. peggy stands, staring starkly at him for another three heartbeats, before turning on a heel and disappearing (briefly!) into a small study attached to the front room.
when she reappears, it’s with a cylindrical case—leather and beaten. she continues to talk as she fumbles with its latch. ]
First, is it five years or is it seventy? [ her gaze dips; a flush of something comes across her face as she focuses on the case instead of steve. ] Second, where the devil is the shield? Howard put too much work into it for you to go and lose it…
[ aha! she pops open the case and, with a touch too much energy, spreads a series of maritime maps on (of all places) the small squat table in her living room. ]
Third—show me where the Valkyrie is.
[ alright, alright, so the third question is more of a direct order. she barks it while pointing at the charts, shoulders heaving with just a bit too much breath. ]
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He remembers saying goodbye to her at HQ. After planning the assault on Red Skull. He gave her a smile and said he'd be back for an exit physical when this was all over. With Red Skull out of the way getting after Hitler would become much easier. War could end. But his plane goes down and Steve wakes up in a whole new world. Cold and different than what he's grown used to. He settles into the new swing of things. Treading water a bit here and there, but ultimately Captain America stays busy. Like he always should.
The Avengers are the ones that notices the disturbance. The vibrations shifting and the smallest hole being ripped through the dimension. Not even Steve fully understands the science, but Tony's practically foaming at the mouth. Bruce following behind him equally as excited, but less obvious about it. When they track down the anomaly Steve is the only one to recognize her. It's a beat or two before Natasha recognizes her from old SHIELD reports she'd memorized years before. But it doesn't make sense to her. It doesn't make sense to him either. But she's there. Just like he remembers.
Escorting her back to the compound is quick and painless. He sets her up in a room and leaves her to collect herself. Whatever she needs. He doesn't want to crowd too close. Overwhelm her. Tony and Bruce start in on finding her a way back. Trying to understand what happened and turn fiction into science. Neither wanting to believe fairies were responsible for anything. Natasha loans her clothes and Clint stays back. No real vested interest. Thor however is more jolly than he should be and likely comes by too often to check on her status and ask if she needs food. Eventually Steve turns the big guy away.
He knocks quickly on her door hoping to check up on her himself. Maybe talk if she needs it. Explain exactly what happened with a little more detail.
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There's too much noise and too much that's beyond comprehension. Super soldiers she can stomach. It's science. It makes sense. But that one singular thing seems normal in comparison to everything else. There's just one familiar face, one thing that makes any sort of sense in this madness (though the name Stark plastered on so much is enough to catch her attention, too), and Claire's alarmingly quiet throughout it all. Not herself. Shell shocked. She recognizes that much. Better to shut it down, stop the panic, and when the time comes she'll sort it all out.
Except it takes quite a long time for that to happen. There's a lot of people. A lot of strange things.
She's fiddling with her new clothing when there's a knock. Claire's quite a bit taller than Natasha, less curves, and so the clothes hang awkwardly on her frame and she's glad there's at least a long, cozy robe to wrap around the shirt that's not quite long enough to cover her middle and the jeans that just barely stay at her hips while not managing to get to her ankles. It's enough for now.
She expects Tony or Bruce or Thor--he's the most difficult of the group to swallow, really--and so it's with a barely withheld sigh that she goes to open the door.
"Really, I'm fi--oh. Hello." How awkward. She's very much not fine and very much obviously relieved to see Steve instead of Thor, and she minds her manners after a long moment, stepping back so that he can enter.
"Welcome to my cell."
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Steve musters up a smile. Though maybe muster isn't the right word with her. It's easy to smile seeing her. Mostly because she's one of the few faces from his time that hasn't changed. Bucky's doesn't count. Despite the lack of aging things aren't the same there. "Hi." He waits for a nonverbal invitation before stepping into her space. A soft chuckle escaping as she proceeds to describe it as her cell. Steve looks around for a moment before letting his gaze settle on her.
"Most cells don't come with televisions or wifi. But I've only seen a few." He shrugs. "How're you--uh--" He struggles to find the right word. Running through a list of them in order to describe this situation. He knows it's disorienting. He knows that better than most. "--I guess coping? I know it's a lot. I felt the same way when I woke up."
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"Then I suppose you know how I'm coping." Not great, but what other option is there but to try and do better? A deep breath heaves her shoulders and she shakes her head. "Everything I know is gone. I belong in a museum."
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"Said to the guy that's actually in one." He shakes his head. "Smithsonian. Long story." That exhibit still makes him pause. So much of his life on display. He wonders just how serious the world takes him at times. "The feeling of everything being gone doesn't ever go away. Especially when you have walking reminders like Tony. It's hard not to look at him and see Howard, but it gets bearable with each day." He wants to make it better, but he knows it just takes time. "You're not alone, Claire. I know it feels like you are, but you aren't."
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"Suppose I can't just wander into a hospital and find something to do. I'm outdated." The world doesn't need a World War II nurse. A hero? Apparently it can't have enough. She shakes her head and looks down at her hands folded on her lap. Her hands shake when they're not clasping one another.
"They're not going to be able to find a way to send me back, are they?"
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Steve shakes his head quickly. "You're not outdated, Claire. You're just a little behind." He refuses to admit that. She was one of the smartest nurses he knew back during the war. Quick thinking. Clever. She always had the answer. "You're surrounded by a bunch of people who get shot at constantly. We could use a few more hands that know how to patch up a bullet wound. We'll get you caught up if you want." Tony can make miracles happen. Bruce as well.
There's a heavy sigh that unintentionally falls from his lips. "Truthfully I don't know. I wanna say yes. Tony built a suit that flies from metal. Bruce turns into a giant green monster. Thor's trying to find another tear out there. He's a god. You're surrounded by a lot of impossible people. They sort of specialize in this. We're not gonna give up on you. You have my word."
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"And if I do go back, what? They'll think I'm mad. That Captain America is now in 2000-something, and I've been there to see it." She motions at the room around them. "How am I supposed to explain all this, or simply go on as usual? And what stops me from screwing up history?"
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"I doubt Howard or Peggy will think you're crazy. Howard's always been a forward thinker." Steve gives a light raise of his shoulders. Not entirely sure that he has all the answers she wants. He's just as empty and lost as the rest of them. "I don't know, Claire. Maybe one day you'll make things better if that happens."
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"This is just--a lot. I'm sorry." For what? She doesn't know, either. So much unknown.
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He steps towards the bed and takes a seat. He reaches out tentatively and presses a warm hand to the middle of her back. "Don't apologize. I know I don't have the answers now, but that doesn't mean we won't find them. It's just gonna take some time."
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Christ.
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☀️ it's called 'public' relations for a reason.
she's been lucky enough to have cat grant in her corner. catco has always protected supergirl in the media, dissuaded the lowbrow paparazzi-fueled stories that would paint her as anything less than the good girl they've cast her to be. supergirl is the bronzed heroine of their digital age, practically the stuff of legends. her place is in national city, defending the helpless and protecting the weak.
so it comes as a bit of a surprise to kara to find herself summoned to new york city out of the blue one summer afternoon, the address in her dossier leading her to the gleaming glass front of avenger tower. supergirl isn't exactly inconspicious, but at least arriving from the air brings her to the flight deck rather than the ground-floor level; as much as she doesn't mind taking pictures or signing autographs in her cape and skirt, sometimes it's nice to have a quiet entrance for a change.
not that the quiet lasts very long, because it never really does for her. no, the quiet lasts only for a moment, because as soon as she pushes open the doors, there's a high-strung woman in a suit greeting her, talking a mile a minute and guiding her with a tentative hand to her arm into a small conference room where, judging by the sudden hush that falls over the room, it's clear she's the last to arrive.
the meeting itself is brief, almost clinically straightforward; kara can only listen with increasing flustered expressions as the public relations representative explains exactly why the avengers — technically, s.h.i.e.l.d., but "the semantics aren't important here" — have requested supergirl via interagency loan. the public's perception of "superheroes" has reached a critical low. they need a public relations boost, and after intense research and investigation, they've found the simplest option will be the best: love. not real love, though. fake love. pretend love. it works for celebrities. the public eats it up. they don't care if it's real or not, they just want to believe it.
and with that, kara's left alone (or rather, they're left alone) to resign herself to the reality of her situation, to review the copy of the dossier she hadn't bothered to read yet. she'd assumed there would be time to read and voice her objections upon arrival; if she'd taken the time to read before flying, she might have had a chance to protest to j'onn. now, though, it was too late — his signature as her supervising officer was already there, black and white on the faxed copy, and with it, her fate was sealed.
whether kara liked it or not, she was going to date steve rogers. or, rather, supergirl was going to date captain america. starting that day, because time was apparently of the essence, and they had a photo op in a park to create. )
I know you said 'don't be a stranger', but I didn't think this is what you meant.
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It's no big secret that the public is scared. Scared that the Avengers all somehow have some sort of dark association to HYDRA and what they managed to accomplish in seventy years. Hidden in plain sight. Natasha released documents after documents. A lot of them encrypted. Too difficult to decipher, but that wasn't the point. What mattered at the time was transparency. Making themselves visible so that the public could decide on their own. But since the fall and rebuild of SHIELD they've been hurting severely. The government doesn't trust them and the public is scared. They need something.
Of course it falls on Steve. Tony is dating Pepper. Sam is not technically an Avenger. Not to mention he's out of the country right now. Natasha--well, he'd like to see anyone try to tell Natasha who she should date. The same goes for Bruce Banner. Thor is with Jane. Clint was suspiciously avoided in this instance. Steve isn't sure why and he doesn't ask. But Steve is single. He's single and he's a public figure they can trust given what he did to dissolve HYDRA back in his day and what he did to stop them now. He gave up a lot.
But here they are. Playing a game that Steve didn't know would one day be apart of being Captain America. He thought his days of being a dancing monkey were done. Finished being a media whore with no real say in what he does and says. But it could be worse he figures. It could be someone from within his own team. Seeing as how the only one was Natasha and possible Maria Hill he was just happy they reached out elsewhere. Those things made work difficult. ]
What can I say? I like to keep you on your toes.
[ He would have preferred a meeting that wasn't forced, but it's nice to see her again. ]
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well, paperwork and routine. and hers had become a rather steady one this past year: she wakes up before her alarm; she applies her war paint; she boils a pot of water for tea; she tends to a modest flock of house-plants lining the modest front window of her modest house. true, the house is downright palatial in comparison to the kinds of lodging houses where she used to reside during her ssr days—but it was still simple and efficient. it passed muster.
some mornings, howard sends a car to take her to the office. but other mornings (most mornings!) peggy endeavors to walk two blocks to a bus stop. when stark presses her on the matter, she smiles slyly and insists it’s important to stay grounded—connected—to the community surrounding their secretive little headquarters. there is a core tenant, a kind of inspiration, at the heart of their fledgling agency and peggy can’t imagine its role model would approve if it became a kind of ivory tower holding court way way way above the people it hoped to protect.
—so it’s a wednesday morning, a touch on the dreary side, and she’s leaning against her open front door with a cuppa cradled in both hands. her briefcase sits by her feet and those feet are (of course) well-heeled. the whole of her is well-heeled, in point of fact, in a skirt and blouse that would better befit someone from the secretarial pool than a decorated spy. peggy takes another deep sip, inhales a bit of the day, and watches her street with keen interest before checking her wristwatch.
ten minutes. she’s got ten minutes to stand and watch her street stir to life. ten minutes until she’s even has to start thinking about catching her bus. ]
steve you are terrible at sneaking around
If you asked him what he'd do if he hung it up it wouldn't be go back in time to find happiness. Actually there's no telling what he'd do if he finally stepped away. Or maybe he just wouldn't be able to? He doesn't know. Going back and seeing her was the tipping point. Looking at her made everything worth it. She was the Peggy he remembered. He wanted so badly to call out to her, but he knows that it wouldn't have been a good choice. It would have been cruel knowing there was no way of knowing if he could walk away from everything they were doing in one piece. Losing him once was bad enough. He didn't need to force her to lose him twice just because he wanted to let her know he was there.
This isn't what Bruce or Sam expected from him when he went back. Bucky likely didn't see it coming either. There's no telling what he'll do with his knowledge of Bucky, but for the moment he has eyes for one woman and it's Peggy. He makes the decision when he returns the stone that Bruce grabbed. Not quite that far into the past, but certainly a ways. It's impulsive, selfish, and not even remotely logical, but he knows that it's absolutely going to be worth it. No matter what.
He chose this time period because it lined up with a few things. It's been years since Steve went missing after crashing into the ice. Something he'll no doubt have to talk to Peggy about. After everything they went through with Red Skull and HYDRA he knows that she'll likely not have an issue believing him. Though it might take some doing. He's well aware of what she got up to after his disappearance as well. She did impossible things.
With his arrival meant he had to blend in. The suit he used to jump through time wasn't the best thing to be seen in. After everything with the war and Red Skull he knows people would likely jump to crazy assumptions if he roamed the streets of her town. Not ideal. Breaking into a dry cleaners that hasn't opened yet wasn't really what he wanted, but it made the most sense at the moment. The shirt's a little tight, but the pants are fine. Steve's quick to find a bathroom in a gas station and push his hair back with water. For the first time since he woke up in the ice Steve feels set. He was always the man out of time, but now it's almost like a second chance. A redo.
As he's navigating to her place on foot Steve swipes the first baseball hat that's left unattended. He pulls it down to at least hide himself a bit. It's been maybe close to five years since Steve Rogers went missing. He doesn't want a family taking a stroll identifying him before he can talk to Peggy and possibly Howard at some point. He's carrying tech from the future on him and if he knows Howard then he knows that man is gonna want it in his hands immediately.
The street she lives on is quiet. At least at the moment. It's early and Steve doesn't really try to make eye contact with anyone that might be wandering out to grab their paper. His head is bowed forward and he's doing everything in his power to hide his face. The jacket he's wearing feels tighter the more he tries to fold in on himself to keep people from recognizing him. When he finds himself stopping on the sidewalk in front of her house all he can see are feet on the porch. Heels. If he looks up and this isn't Peggy then he makes eye contact with someone that can potentially point out Captain America to the public. ]
Does Peggy Carter live here? [ He's not disguising his voice or anything. He's really banking on those feet belonging to the woman he loves. ]
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but the stranger doesn’t sound all that strange, does he? concern almost immediately gives ground to curiosity as the notes, the timbre, of his voice settle in her ears. it’s bewitchingly like his. some primal desire in the back of her brain makes her wish and want for what obviously can’t be real. ]
She does.
[ her reply begins distant—cool, detached, and putting on a grand show of not-much-caring even as her guts twist into knots both with knee-jerk caution and a whole host of daydreamish notions.
it’s not until she takes a step back and closely studies the figure standing at her front steps that she stops, furrows her brow, and begins to paint in colours and loose lines of familiarity into the man’s stature. with a prickle of epiphany running down her spine, peggy realizes that she would know those titanic shoulders anywhere. ]
Rather. I-I do. [ she stammers, confirms a very different answer to what she now understands is a very different question, and can feel her own fingers tremble against her half-emptied tea cup. her voice leaps an octave, vulnerable with hope. ] Good heavens, it’s not possible—
[ a car horn honks down the street, startling her posture back into place, and peggy clears her throat. missing only a few beats, she shifts near-seamlessly into a chalky command: ]
Eyes up.
[ let me see you. ]
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There's a sense of relief when the voice that answers is hers. He'd know it anywhere. Even if he hadn't spent all that time by her bed during her final years. He could remember it without skipping a beat. He'd dream of her. Getting a chance to talk to her. To say goodbye. Only now the reality is he doesn't intend to say goodbye. Not when he's well aware that by now the world doesn't need him. It's time for Steve Rogers to be happy. To find some sense of happiness that'll let him enjoy his life for once. His only regret is that Natasha didn't get a chance to find this for herself. Especially after everything she trudged through.
It doesn't occur to him to keep responding. Instead he just keeps his eyes low and his ears open. Smiling ever so slightly when she seems to add things up without much effort. That was Peggy though. Smartest one in the room. The muscles in Steve's forearm tighten when the car horn honks. He doesn't look in it's direction though. It's not important. At least he's certain it is. She is though. She gives Steve a command and for a moment it's like he's right back in boot. Scrawny and hoping that maybe she'll look his way.
After another moment Steve's head lifts and he takes a step towards her porch. More than a step. He makes it to the second step of the porch steps and looks at her. ] I know it's been a few years, but I was really hoping that you still had time for that dance with me. Better late than never huh?
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he says it’s been a few years. he cops to being late. and peggy, bemused and bewildered, can’t help but mark those words as a tremendous understatement. she suffers from a tremendous defense mechanism, one intended to keep her from feeling altogether too vulnerable, and that mechanism urges her to meet his greeting with a kind of red hot indignation—hell, it even burns briefly in her cheeks.
except it all boils away the moment she looks him in his eyes. bright, undeniable blue and exactly the colour she remembers them to be—even if the spirit behind them seems altered, weathered, aged. peggy’s teeth grind briefly in the back of her mouth and she, with a rather pointed grace, balances her tea cup on the thick metal rail of her front stoop. ]
All this way and all this time, [ she hedges—her voice light and hesitant and trying very hard not to descend into something raw, ] and you’ve got the gall to ask for a dance?
[ her lips press into a line as she thinks about kissing him. her heart rabbits in her chest, generating a hundred little sparks keen to compel her to do anything other than be her exacting, scolding self.
god, seeing him is wonderful. hearing him is wonderful. even-already-only thinking about touching him is wonderful. still, she doesn’t telegraph her joy too loudly—so accustomed is she to guarding her feelings. ]
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It happened over and over whenever her memory would fade. Forcing Steve to endure the way she'd look at him with guilt. Guilt of never finding him. When she used to look at him before it was like she was seeing a ghost. To her Steve had been gone for many years. Longer than this version of her had experienced. She had moved on from him. Then he was thawed out and exposed to the world once more. She suddenly came face to face with a memory that lived in the back of her mind. He cherished those years he got to spend with her, but he wanted more. This version of her though still has a fire. It's been almost five years and while she's grieved and shifted her life forward once more there's a part of her that will likely still be angry at him for what he did in the plane. Possibly for how long he's been gone and where he's been. It'll take some explaining.
Honestly? Steve has to smile. He can't help himself. He moves to the left and steps up onto the porch completely. No longer lingering on the steps. He turns towards her and reaches up to take the baseball cap off. He pushes his hair back and nods his head. ] I thought anything else would be a little too forward. [ He could get lost just looking at her right now. Hearing her voice. Knowing that in a few moments time she won't completely forget he's returned to her. But the sound of someone's front gate clattering shut catches his attention before looking at her. ]
Do you think that maybe we could go inside? I'll tell you everything.
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his concern is actually something of a blessing; it spares her from tackling the odd, lovely, tempting possibility only winked at when steve says the words too and forward so near to one another.
—with a nod, then, she takes a step back and ushers him inside. peggy manages to collect her briefcase off the ground but neglects the tea cup still balancing on the porch rail. ]
There must be a rather lot to tell if you’re going to tell me everything.
[ she begins to grouse the moment the door is closed behind them. responding to his earlier caution, she breezes beyond him and makes a point to pull the blinds and tug the curtains.
but upon turning to face him: ]
For Christ’s sake, Steve, it’s been years. I— [ i signed the paperwork that reported you as mia, presumed dead.
she clears her throat and reaches out a hand—desperate to grip his arm—but she offers to take his hat and coat instead. ]
I don’t know what to say.
[ lies. she knows all sorts of things she might say—only she can’t yet find the right voice to say them in. ]
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He follows her into the house and shuts the door. He doesn't immediately jump into speaking. Instead he watches Peggy move around the living room to close blinds and curtains. With no outside light peeking through the room feels oddly atmospheric. Though he's not sure what sort of atmosphere will be taking shape. He has some inkling there might be some yelling. Some frustration. Some sadness. Very likely that all these emotions will come from the both of them. ]
It's okay. I get it.
[ Steve shrugs off his coat and hangs it off along with the baseball cap. He crosses his arms over his chest which makes the tight shirt he borrowed from the dry cleaners look even more ill-fitting. It's not ideal, but silence overcomes Steve and he can't find words. He can't find a way to start this. He doesn't know how to make anything okay. After a sigh he finally forms a sentence after studying her. ]
Ya know I dreamed about this? Getting to talk to you and explain everything. But right now? I don't know where to begin. But it's been a little long than almost five years for me. You should probably have a seat though.
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[ peg counters—whip quick and more than a little bit obstinate. and, yes, she is perhaps being contrary on little more than principle. but look at him! standing there, bold as brass, and cutting a figure like every missed opportunity she's ever imagined.
with a sigh of her own, she takes his hat and she takes his jacket and she hangs it on a row of hooks next to some of her own things: an umbrella, a silk scarf, a wool coat. but there's something telling in how her fingertips linger on his jacket sleeve, as though she tries to leech warmth—proof of life—from its cloth.
five years...five years! she can't conceive of which assumption is the better one: that he's been lost and captured all this time or whether he's been perfectly safe but not with her.
showing absolutely no intention of sitting down, peggy progresses instead to removing her blazer. rather than hang it up, she tosses it nonchalantly on the back of a chair in her small, modest front room. she proceeds to roll up her sleeves—appearing all the more thunderous for it when she places her hands on her hips. ]
—You're not the only one who's dreamed about this.
[ so goes peggy carter: saying sweet, heartfelt words but spitting them out as if they're venom. it's a confession disguised as an accusation. her lips purse; her eyes darken. ]
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For a moment he glances back over his shoulder to watch her hang his things. The muscles in his back tighten as she touches his jacket. It's gentle and something he knows she doesn't want him bringing up or addressing. He's quiet instead and just nods. He turns back to focus ahead of him and despite no longer being in the military he somehow finds himself standing alert. It's strange what muscle memory does. His brain takes one look at her and he knows he needs to remain level headed. For the moment.
He hasn't seen this sort of anger and frustration since Private Lorraine. He's sincerely hoping she doesn't have a gun close at hand. Steve stashed his shield elsewhere in an attempt to blend in. Cant walk around holding that shield and trying to convince people you aren't the long lost superhero that went MIA years ago. ]
If I could have gotten back to you sooner, Peggy, I would have. But at that moment I didn't have the ability to roll back time. [ This isn't how he wanted to do it, but he needs her to know that he didn't abandon her. He didn't go AWOL simply to live a normal life. He had his dream ripped away from him. ] I couldn't get back seventy years to be with you. I wanted to though. I wanted to so badly. [ His voice gets softer. ] I'm sorry.
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she clears her throat—having nearly choked on the claim that time had, in any capacity, been rolled back. so peggy hides behind her investigative faculties: one moment he talks about five years, and the next he talks about seventy.
but it all evaporates when he apologizes. her brows knit; her stance shifts. ]
I’ve got three questions. To start.
[ isn’t that her temper abates—far far from it—but she finds a different thrust. peggy stands, staring starkly at him for another three heartbeats, before turning on a heel and disappearing (briefly!) into a small study attached to the front room.
when she reappears, it’s with a cylindrical case—leather and beaten. she continues to talk as she fumbles with its latch. ]
First, is it five years or is it seventy? [ her gaze dips; a flush of something comes across her face as she focuses on the case instead of steve. ] Second, where the devil is the shield? Howard put too much work into it for you to go and lose it…
[ aha! she pops open the case and, with a touch too much energy, spreads a series of maritime maps on (of all places) the small squat table in her living room. ]
Third—show me where the Valkyrie is.
[ alright, alright, so the third question is more of a direct order. she barks it while pointing at the charts, shoulders heaving with just a bit too much breath. ]
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i now know too many things about record players
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