#@roboticonography

[3pirouette]

Fic: The Captain and The Missus (3/?)

Title: The Captain and The Missus 

By: TriplePirouette/3Pirouette

Spoilers: AU of CA:TFA

Disclaimer: They're not mine.

Distribution: AO3 Anyone else please ask first :) 

Story Summary: Instead of wanting to recreate the serum, Schmidt wants every trace of it wiped from existence so he can be the sole one to benefit from it. This means that Steve’s life is in danger, and Peggy’s new job is to keep him alive as he travels in hiding with the USO tour. 

Story A/N: AU of CA: TFA, based on @roboticonography’s idea of having Peggy go on tour with Steve as “Mrs. America”

(Robot’s post HERE: https://3pirouette.tumblr.com/post/654017864817360896/steggy-24-49)

SO... Yes. yes, it's true. I've somehow managed to only update this once a year during the past three years for Steggy Week. At least I'm consistent.

For 2023, this satisfies Steggy Week Day 2: WIPs and Updates.

Chapter 3: Getting on the Right Track

Summary: Peggy and Steve are off on their adventure, but she’ll need to start relying on him just as much as she wants him to rely on her if this is going to work.

A/N: Yes. I’ve now posted one chapter a year for three years in a row for Steggy Week. It’s become tradition. I think a lot of it has to do with this story really just coming slow. I love it, but it’s not flowing as nicely as I’d like it to, so when I get to Steggy Week, I see the WIP category, and go “oh! I should update that!”

So, yeah. Please be kind about it.

~*~

Peggy huffed as she sat on the bench, sliding over to make room for him, irritated. “I’m already not liking this.”

Steve settled softly, trying to tuck his body into a space that used to seem roomy to his 90-pound self, and now seemed cramped for his new body. “The seat?” He turned and looked up the aisle. “I can ask the conductor if there’s—"

“No, no,” she interrupted him, setting her bag on her lap and playing with the edge. “Playing the nagging wife. ‘Oh, do be gentle! My grandmother’s china is in there! Please keep that on the bottom, men, I don’t want it tipping. Oh, could you do me a favor and make sure all our trunks are labeled? Couldn’t lose one, you know!’” She huffed again, looking over at him, dropping her voice to a whisper. “Those men nearly dropped that entire trunk full of ammunition and finely tuned decoders!”

Steve looked alarmed and dropped his voice, leaning in to her. “Could they have exploded?”

She pressed her lips and turned away for a moment, trying not to be angry for his ignorance. “No,” she mumbled, looking back, “But we won’t get another chance at getting more decoders or half of the other kit in there if something breaks or de-calibrates. It won’t explode, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t delicate.”

Steve nodded, letting the information settle for a moment. “I was a little curious why you were being so specific about them.”

Peggy glanced around the sparsely populated car, still caught up in her anxiety. The car ride to the train station had been quiet, which she had hoped came across as contentment, but it was really more her nerves than anything. “I understand why we couldn’t take a transport, but I’d take a well-trained private over a single one of those brutes tossing around our luggage any day. I felt like I was running basic training all over again out there. Everyone on this train must think you’re horribly hen-pecked.”

For a moment she saw that 90-pound man reemerge as he twiddled his thumbs and his jaw opened and closed as he tried to come up with an answer that would appease her. It was enough to crack the wall of growing anxiety and soften her just a little bit. She took pity on him and set her hand on his to stop the fidgeting. “I’m being ridiculous.” She started another sentence, but had to turn away as she yawned, big and wide, into her elbow.

“Tired?” Steve asked, his fingers almost, but not quite, holding her hand.

She sighed, turning back to him as the train rumbled to life under them. “A bit. Had trouble sleeping last night.”

“Why don’t you take a nap?” He shrugged, half smiling. “We’ve got, what… six hours?”

Peggy clicked her tongue behind her teeth and pulled her hand back, sitting tall. “That’s exactly why I can’t take a nap.” She took a deep breath, looking around the train. “Beginnings and endings of operations are the most dangerous part. Anyone could have followed us here. I can’t let my guard down for a second.”

“Peggy,” he started, almost stern, “there’s barely anyone on this train car. I don’t think that the eighty-year-old woman or the two little kids over there are planning anything nefarious. How could they have figured out our plan and followed us here already?”

She looked at him hard, knowing he was trying to placate her. “How, indeed?” She mused sarcastically, “And how do you think a Hydra Agent managed his way into a top secret SSR bunker to try to kill you and Erskine, hum?” She didn’t mean to be sharp, didn’t mean to open the wound that was still too close to the surface, but the thought still kept her up at night.

That man shouldn’t have been able to get in there. Someone in the SSR was ratting them out to Hydra.

That meant that nothing, nothing they were going to do that anyone else knew about, was safe.

Especially putting Steve in this damn show.

Steve nodded in understanding, shrugging half-heartedly, a shadow passing over his face at the thoughts of what had happened. “I get it, I do.”

“I have to keep you safe.” She replied softly, urgency filling her voice. “I can’t let my guard down, even for a moment.”

“So what?” he didn’t miss a beat, his own eyes accusing now, “You’re not going to ever fall asleep?”

“Well, I—”

He shook his head. “No, Peg. This isn’t one sided.”

She leaned forward, dropping her voice down low, “It’s my job to keep you alive, and I’m damn well not going to—”

He reached over, grabbing her hand. The movement was enough to derail her frustration and turn it to curiosity as he held her left hand up to his. “This, Peg, says we’re partners.” He moved his hands, letting their matching rings shine in the light, smiling a little and letting his own frustration morph to earnestness. “For better or for worse. Like it or not. You and me against the world.”

Peggy didn’t want to admit that the moment, born out of frustration and desperation, was extremely tender, or that she felt a little thrill of excitement at the confident, strong way he took her hand, or that she felt cared for in the soft way that he cradled her hand as he lined up their rings. No, she tried to ignore the fact that his eyes were damn near sparkling as he said those words, filled with all the emotions she was feeling, and maybe even more. She really, really didn’t want to admit that of all the moments in her life, that was the most damn romantic of them all.

“Steve, I…” Her voice drifted away. She wasn’t sure what she wanted to say, but she knew she needed to protest, needed to change this moment before it got way out of hand.

“We’re a team,” he whispered. “The moment we left that base this morning, it was just us. I don’t like to think about the fact that someone has already tried to kill me, and that it’ll probably happen again, and I don’t like thinking about the fact that you’re in that line of fire with me. But you’re here to protect me, and even though no one’s said it before now, I’m saying it and I mean it: I’m protecting you, too.”

Peggy struggled for composure; she tried to keep a straight face when everything inside her was falling apart. She’d never been one for big declarations or sappy sentiments and coming from anyone else, it might have felt trite or overly sugary, but Peggy knew with every fiber of her being that Steve meant it. He well and truly meant it.

She couldn’t remember if anyone had ever said something so simple in such a profound way to her before. She couldn’t remember if she’d ever believed someone so fervently before.

It was a struggle to pull her focus back out, to keep the world from closing in until there was just the two of them, hands cradled together, train bouncing below them as Steve just happened to outdo her ex-fiance’s proposal of marriage in a few earnest words, but she managed it. “Thank you,” she whispered, knowing the words were not enough for the depth of the sentiment he just expressed. She forced the tension to break with a smile, squeezing his hand. “You don’t need to work so hard, Steve, I’ve already married you.”

He chuckled, the heaviness around them lightening almost instantly. He looked away, ears turning red as he whispered into the aisle, “Maybe I’m trying to get you to fall in love with me.”

“Hum?” The questioning sound was out of her throat before she could stop herself. She knew very well what he’d said, but didn’t quite want to believe it. She managed to keep a straight face as he panicked, letting go of her hand and shaking his head.

“Nothing,” he tried to cover, poorly, and forced a nervous smile at her. “You should take a nap, really.”

Her smile only lifted her lips a little as she ducked her head. “To be honest, I don’t know if I could if I wanted to, I’m still so keyed up.”

This time his smile was genuine as he rooted in his pocket to pull out a small paperback. “Offer stands. I don’t need much sleep these days, anyway.”

She watched him, unabashedly, as he turned to the book and flipped through until he found his page. Without thought she reached out, hand wrapping around his wrist to get his attention. He looked at her, but didn’t say anything.

“That meant a lot,” she managed to choke out, uncomfortable with the way the words made her feel exposed, but knowing she needed to make him understand how she felt, “what you said about us. You and me.”

The corner of his mouth ticked up. “Together against the world.”

“Yes,” she could feel the stress start to drain from her. “A team.” She took a slow, deep breath. It was like the worry, the anxiety of the last two days was getting left behind them with each passing second and each mile they put between the base and themselves, but she’d never been more serious. “I’m going to hold up my end, Steve, I promise.”

“I know you will,” he put down the book, flipping his hand and lacing their fingers together. “And I’ll keep up mine.”

~*~

She remembered holding his hand, contentedly, looking out the window and pretending she was watching the landscape pass them by while he read with one hand, but instead took the time to clock each and every passenger, to look them over in the reflection and try to gauge their threat level.

Somewhere after the pre-teen boy three rows up, she realized she had her head on his shoulder. It didn’t much seem to matter, though, as she could still hear him turning pages and they were supposed to be married, after all.

Just after the man two rows back, she thought that she’d just close her eyes for a minute.

Just one.

And five hours later, she woke up tucked into Steve’s side as the train slowed, chugging into the station.

~*~

They were hustled from the station to the theater by a small man with a pinched face, who seemed both annoyed by and indifferent to their presence. He assured them that their trunks would make it to their hotel room safely before he ushered them off the platform and into a small car.

She was both impressed and somewhat relieved that Steve managed to make his own fuss about the trunks as they were ushered off the train, she didn’t even need to speak a word on the subject.

They were quiet in the car, the trip quite a bit longer than they expected. “I thought we were going to be in DC?” Steve asked as the man navigated the streets.

“The show will open in DC, rehearsals are outside of the city,” the man replied. “Your hotel is close to the theater, don’t worry.” He grumbled, mumbling under his breath, “I know you’re worried about your trunks.”

Peggy tried to hold back her smile, but couldn’t. Steve gave her a gentle tap with his elbow, and she acknowledged his performance on the subject with a grateful bow of her head.

“How are you feeling?” He spoke softly. Even though they were bound to be overheard by their driver, who was under no obligation to keep anything he heard a secret, his soft voice went a long way to making the question feel at least a little private.

“Much better,” she replied just as quietly. “Suppose I was more tired than I thought.”

She expected a smile, or maybe a flirt- something he’d been more confident in over the last day- but instead he sobered and dropped his voice even lower. “I’m glad you felt safe enough. I always want you to feel safe with me.”

She couldn’t help but smile this time. “I do.”

~*~

It occurred to Peggy, as she walked into the theater, that she’d never been in one as something other than a patron. She’d gone for films and for the occasional play, even to hear concerts… but she’d never been in a theater where she wasn’t ushered to her seat and treated to a performance.

She was stunned as she followed Steve through the backstage area, stepping over coils of rope and avoiding scattered set-pieces that were half painted and half built. The bright white backstage lights were nothing compared to the colorful performance lights she was used to. She’d always thought theaters seemed too glamorous, so frivolous, and yet, there was exposed, dirty brick and sawdust everywhere. There wasn’t a luxurious velvet curtain in sight and instead it seemed little more than a warehouse with an audience.

It left her with an odd feeling of awareness, as if it was the first time she realized everything she’d seen on a stage really was just smoke and mirrors, sets and rigs and pulleys that made Peter Pan fly and Hamlet’s father rise from the grave. Seeing the lighting rigs bare overhead and the mess of lights and wires and rope on the stage made her feel a peculiar sensation, as if she was seeing something no one was ever meant to see.

“About six feet to the left!”

The shout pulled her out of her thoughts, and immediately reminded her that this was a place that posed an extreme danger for the both of them. The man who was shouting was a rotund man standing just below the stage, eyes on the two workers hanging a large American Flag from the rigging. He shook his head then caught sight of them, only looking slightly interested.

“You must be my headliners!” He gestured for their pinch-faced chauffeur to bring them down the stairs to him. He watched as Steve helped Peggy down the steep steps at the front of the stage with a hand, the raw wood wobbly. “Don’t worry about that,” he bellowed, “They may be unsteady, but they won’t be there for the show. Just while we’re getting the stage set up.” He shot a careful look over to where the men were hanging the flag, “It’s been busy around here since we got the rewrites.”

He held out his hand to Steve, “I’m Walter Pennington, Producer.”

“Steve Rogers,” He shook his hand, pulling back when he saw the man fight to keep a pleasant face at his strength. “And this is my wife, Peggy.”

Peggy knew right away what kind of man he was by the fact that he barely acknowledged her. No handshake, and barely even a nod. Instead, he kept his attention on Steve. It wasn’t that she wasn’t used to being looked over, but rather that it always stung.

“Well, they weren’t lying that you’re strong,” Walter said, flexing his hand a few times. “That’s good.” He took another short glance at Peggy. “We were surprised you’d want to bring the little lady with you, never mind incorporate her into the show.” He laughed, “I’m even more shocked Brandt went for it.”

Steve glanced over at Peggy. Neither of them had been briefed on what, exactly, Brant had told the people who were making the show, and she realized that her nap today really was lost time. They had no story put together and would be making things up as they went- at least for today.

That was always dangerous territory.

“Well, we’re still newlyweds,” Steve managed the reply fairly quickly, pulling Peggy into his side. “How could I leave a gal like this back home?”

She felt Steve’s hand just barely tighten at her shoulder, and she could tell he was just as uncomfortable with the man’s suggestive gaze as she was. “I guess not,” Pennington finally mumbled, though Peggy was sure there was something else he wanted to say.

Walter cleared his throat and finally looked at her face, addressing her directly. “I suppose we can work you into a few of the singing numbers, though that’s really up to the director.”

“I don’t sing,” she declared, arching an eyebrow at the man. His clothes said high class but the way he leered at her proved he hadn’t had a proper upbringing.

“Well, then,” he looked her up and down again, not hiding it, “At least you’ll look good in the kick line.”

Peggy wished she could punch him, the way he looked at her reminiscent of far too many men who thought they were better than her. She could feel Steve tensing up beside her. “And I don’t dance.”

He cleared his throat, crossing his arms. “Oh, you don’t, huh?” He leaned over to Steve, “What does she do?”

“Well, she…” Steve stuttered only for a second, thinking on his feet and smiling that boyish smile of his, “she’s swell at telling stories, pretty versatile, really, and just look at that smile!”

The producer turned his head back to her and she flashed him her best grin, trying her best to hide the disgust and sarcasm. “’Swell’ at telling stories?” He sighed. “I’m supposed to sell a great American hero who married a Brit?”

“I mean, we are allies,” Steve tried to rationalize.

Walter sighed, rubbing at his forehead. “What did Brandt think, you were going to stand on stage and smile? You might have a nice set of gams there, but that and a nickel will get you a cup of coffee.”

“I think you’ll find,” Peggy started loud, clear, and very American sounding, “that I can blend in quite well when necessary. I’m happy to affect any accent you’ll need for the stage, and do most anything except sing and dance.”

Walter looked up at Steve, obviously not used to being talked to in that manner by a woman, waiting for Steve to say something to her. Instead, he gave her a little squeeze and met the man’s confused gaze with a proud smirk. “That’s my girl!”

He wasn’t pleased, and he didn’t try to hide it. “Rehearsals start tomorrow, you’ll get your script then.”

“How long will we be here in rehearsals?” Steve asked, genuinely interested. Peggy wanted to know, too. They had woefully little information about the process.

“Three weeks of rehearsals then a soft opening run of four shows here. You open in DC for a week, then there’s a cross country schedule.” He tipped his head to their chauffeur who had stayed close. “Dave there will bring you to your hotel.”

Peggy almost smiled. Their pinch-faced man had a name. Dave.

“You need anything while you’re here, you ask Dave. Once you’re on the road, you’re on your own. Got it?”

“Yes, sir,” Steve replied, almost reflexively.

Walter looked him up and down once more. “Yeah, I think they’ll believe you belong in the army.” He turned away from them, mumbling as he left, “Damn government contract.”

Peggy had only the barest of moments to share a stunned look with Steve before they were interrupted by Dave, who stepped in front of them and motioned for them to follow him back through the audience.

~*~

Their hotel was not quite homey, but not quite bleak: two high towers full of rooms with a central connecting lobby filled with the dining room and common rooms. It was housing all the staff and performers for the show, most of whom, at least according to Dave, already knew each other from being on the performance circuit.

Steve unlocked their room, pocketing the key and swinging open the door wide. It wasn’t much: pale cream colors on the walls and faded floral bedsheets with matching curtains, a worn loveseat and a tiny table with two unsteady chairs. The bathroom was small, but having their own private one was a luxury.

“Not too bad,” Steve mused, walking around. He patted the tops of their trunks, sitting across from the bed. “How do you think they fared?”

“Well enough, I’m sure.” Peggy smiled just a little, eyes falling on the single bed. “Better than a tent on the front,” she mused.

He chuckled a little, shoving his hands in his pocket. “Very big upgrade,’ he agreed. “Should we unpack?”

Peggy held up her hand, her wife façade falling and the agent taking over, serious and stoic. She pulled a small black box from her purse and flicked a small button, moving it up and down as she slowly side stepped her way through the room. She slid it over the dresser and under the bed, in the small shower stall and behind the toilet. Finally, she sighed happily, clicking the box off and gesturing to the room. “Proceed.”

He didn’t move, but rather pointed to the box in her hand. “What was that?”

“One of Howard’s designs,” she held it up, admiring it with a small smile. She tapped the small, dark bulb on the end. “It lights up in the presence of an electronic listening device.”

Steve looked around the room, crestfallen that he had been so blindly trusting of their accommodations. “So… we’re good?”

“For bugs? Yes. Though the walls seem about as thick as a piece of parchment, so we should get used to keeping our voices down.”

His shoulders fell just a bit more as the whole thing became just a little more real to him. “You… you really think I’m in danger here?”

Her lips pressed tight as she looked up to him, she forced the tiniest of smiles. “I think that Colonel Phillips is one of the smartest men I’ve ever worked with, and despite his misgivings about you, he’s a keen judge of people. I also think that if the goal was to simply guard you or keep you safe, not only are there many other people besides myself who can do that job, it could be easily accomplished by putting you in a cell in Alamogordo. The Colonel has a great distrust of Senator Brandt, and made sure I was the one sent with you. Brandt didn’t make that pick, no matter how he tried to sell it- Phillips did. He told me himself.” She took a deep breath. “He had this show all ready for you to go in to without more than a day’s notice, and is a main suspect in how that Hydra Agent got past our defenses. Whatever’s going on, Phillips wasn’t just trusting anyone with this, and I’m not going to take any of it lightly.”

He was silent for a moment, taking in all he hadn’t known: that Phillips picked Peggy, not Brandt, and that Brandt was a suspect for being in cahoots with Hydra. “Thank you,” he finally whispered out, forcing himself to move on. “I guess… I guess we should get unpacked.”

Peggy shook her head, “Only the littlest bit. If we make it look like we’re living out of the trunks, it’s less suspicious that we’re not unpacking two of them.”

He nodded, undoing the straps on the top one and opened it, moving aside to let Peggy see the artillery had made it safe and sound. “We should put these on the bottom, I think, and ours on top so it’ll be harder for anyone to snoop.”

Peggy smiled up at him, proud. “Thinking like a spy already!” She reached in and pulled out a small handgun and a little filled canvas bag. “That should do for now, make sure those straps are tight.”

Peggy set her bounty on the counter and moved to the second trunk as Steve tightened the straps and moved it deeper in the room, setting it in the back corner, then grabbing another trunk and stacking it on top of it. Peggy pulled out a pair of retractable batons and the boxes of clothes Howard had sent with them, setting those on the counter as well. When she turned back, Steve was at the edge of the bed, holding a small, wrapped package, looking more than a little bashful.

“I, uh…” he laughed nervously, looking down at his toes. “This seemed like a good idea at the time, but uh, seems corny now.”

“What is it?” Peggy asked softly, taking a small step closer and fighting to keep her hands from fidgeting in the folds of her skirt.

Steve turned red, but met her eyes with a big smile that reminded her of the one she’d seen on him at the beginning of basic training. “A wedding present.”

She swallowed, hard. “I… I haven’t gotten you anything.” The retort seemed silly, even to her ears, but it somehow relaxed him.

“I didn’t expect you to. I just…” He shrugged and stepped forward, holding it out. “Here.”

She took it in her hands, soft and light, and let her fingers run over the brown paper wrapping and the little blue ribbon bow around it. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d gotten a properly wrapped present. She realized she was taking her time, and looked up at him, smiling. “Thank you,” she almost whispered, still surprised.

He shoved his hands back in his pockets, shoulders up to his ears. Slowly she pulled at the bow, and separated the paper to reveal a piece of black fabric that looked suspiciously like a garter belt, but with a little more fabric to it. She looked up at him, his cheeks slowly burning red with embarrassment. “A garter?”

“It’s- it’s a holster.” He reached out one hand, almost touching it, then pulling back. “Or it’s supposed to be, anyway.” He cleared his throat and fought for composure. “After you left Howard’s lab yesterday he mentioned that his butler’s wife was a seamstress and had done the majority of the sewing for the… stuff he gave you.” Peggy fought to not laugh at how cute he was, struggling around the topic. “Anyway, he seemed to think there was some left, so I asked if she could make you something nice. Anna seemed to think you’d find this more useful.”

That caught her up short, even as she pulled the holster up to look at it. “She knows?”

Steve shrugged. “I was as surprised as you are, but apparently all she knows is that the fabric Howard gave her is supposed to be a lighter version of armor, and she figured if you’d need armor you’d need this.” One side of his lips turned up. “Sounded like a good idea, to me.”

Peggy smiled. The holster was genius: made out of the same protective fabric that the stockings and slips were made of, it would lay extremely flat against her thigh and the flap at the top would keep the shape from being too conspicuous. She’d been worried how she was going to keep a firearm on her when she needed to be on stage, and this had just made it very, very easy. “This is wonderful, Steve. Thank you.”

“You like it?” He sounded like a hopeful little boy.

Peggy bent over and slid it up her leg, reaching out and settling the small handgun she’d pulled from the trunk in it. “I love it!” She let her skirt fall back over her legs, and noticed that he’d looked away while her bare thigh was on display. She spun, letting the skirt settle. “Can you tell it’s there?”

He looked, swallowing as he stared at her legs. “Uh, no. No, I can’t.”

She smiled brightly. “Then it’s perfect.”

~*~

Peggy felt better with the gun nestled against her thigh as they walked down to the lobby. With the entirety of the show’s cast and crew staying at the hotel, they were providing breakfast and dinner each day. Steve and Peggy stopped at the double doors of the small banquet room, watching the people, most of whom seemed to know one another, hustle around the large buffet and bounce from table to table, chatting.

“Not too much different from the mess, I guess.” Steve mumbled, tugging at his shirt sleeves. The civilian clothes he changed into fit him tight across the shoulders, almost too tight, and the pants were too big by at least two sizes. Most of the clothes he brought with him needed tailoring, badly, but they were all he could piece together on short notice.

He’d only had this physique for less than a week, after all, and none of his old clothes fit. Even the socks were too small.

Peggy slipped her arm through his, setting them forward. “Stay close, please.”

“Not a problem,” he mumbled, trying to force smiles as they moved through the room. It was easy enough, stepping in line and filling plates. No one questioned that they were supposed to be there as everyone was enthralled in their own dinner conversations. Peggy struggled to split her attention, eyeing each performer in the room, looking for someone whose gaze lingered just a little too long or whose eyebrows knit a little too deeply, while trying to decide what to eat. Apparently, rationing wasn’t quite as bad here as it was in London, and nowhere near what it had been on the front lines. Bowls and platters were full of chicken and mashed potatoes and rolls and butter and there were little cakes at the end of the line that made her do a double take.

She hadn’t seen a proper dessert in months.

“Bloody Nora,” she mumbled, trying to keep from letting her eyes pile more than she could eat on her plate.

“Yeah, it’s a good spread,” Steve whispered beside her, not being shy about piling his plate high. “Better than rations, huh?”

She carefully picked out just one of the little finger cakes at the end of the table and looked up at him, astounded. “Does everyone in America eat like this?”

“This?” He laughed a little, taking his own cake and then following her to a corner where there was a free table. “No. This is pretty extravagant.” He set his plate down, noticing she set them in the corner, where they’d both have a good line of vision to keep nearly the whole dining room in view. “I’ll go grab us some drinks. Water? Tea?”

“Water, please” she replied, still a little shell shocked. She watched him take the few steps to another table and fill two tall glasses and she unfurled her napkin and revealed the silverware that had been waiting for them on the table. The room still buzzed, but she could see that it was with a jovial familiarity. People were talking like old friends, making new friends, smiling and laughing.

The mood, and the food, was a far cry from the front she’d grown used to during her time with the SSR. She wasn’t sure if that made things better or worse. It certainly made her anxious.

Steve slid in across from her, setting her glass down. He smiled and pulled out his silverware, taking no time before tucking into his food. He stopped a few bites in when he realized she hadn’t started. He hurriedly wiped his mouth like a little kid and sat up tall. “Did… did you want to say grace or something?”

“No, sorry,” Peggy lifted her fork and tried to smile. “Just… people watching, I suppose.”

He started eating again, this time a little slower, with his eyes on her more often. “Did you… notice anything?”

Peggy swallowed and dabbed at her lips, moving her peas around her plate with the fork. “No, which bothers me.” She sighed quietly, leaning in towards him, “I’m used to knowing more about the situations I’m headed into. We know nothing about these people. I don’t even know who could be lying about who they are because I don’t have any dossiers on them at all.”

“Brandt didn’t give you any of that stuff?” Steve asked, his eyebrow knitting as he speared a piece of chicken.

She shook her head, chewing a forkful of potatoes thoughtfully. “I suppose I could get their bios and headshots somehow, but it still gives us little to go on.”

Steve tapped the fork against his lips, looking around. “What if… what if it’s not anyone here?” He turned back to her. “Wouldn’t it be easier to be an audience member?”

Peggy sipped on her water, nodding. “Could do, yeah.” She looked around, too, picking at her chicken that had seemed so appetizing just a few minutes ago. “Easy in and out. But if it were me? Someone in the show would be invaluable.”

“Like you,” Steve mumbled, looking at his plate and shoving a big forkful in his lips before he could say anymore.

Peggy’s heart skipped a beat, but before she could reply, a shadow slid over them. They both looked up to a bright, smiling face. “So, you must be the guy?”

“Excuse me?” Steve swallowed hard.

“Like, the guy, right? As in Mister Captain America?” She smiled and pulled the chair behind her up to the table. “I’m Angie,” she held out her hand, waiting for Steve to take it.

“Steve.” His handshake was tentative, but that didn’t seem to deter her.

She turned right away and held it out to Peggy, too. “And you must be the Missus!”

“Peggy,” she swallowed the mouthful of food she’d forgotten about, pulling her free hand to cover her mouth as she shook Angie’s hand. “Sorry, you surprised me.”

“Me?” Angie chuckled, eyes wide as she looked Peggy over. “You’re the surprise!” She let her voice drop, telling Peggy a secret she knew Steve could hear. “I mean, I was cast as Betty Carver, so I was a little disappointed when I heard I was getting dropped down to feature.”

Peggy watched Angie’s face fall when neither she nor Steve seemed to react to that. “I’m sorry, am I supposed to know who that is?” Peggy shrugged, trying to play it off as being dim. “We haven’t been given a script yet.”

Angie’s face went from disappointed to outraged. “You haven’t been…” Her mouth worked in disbelief as she looked between the two of them. “Who is your agent? We’ve all had the songs and script for weeks now!”

Peggy felt the sentence hit her like a punch in the gut: whatever Brandt had been planning, it had been going on for weeks, not days. Though they’d both known this couldn’t have been put together in the last few days, the realization that there was already a plan to center around some ultra-strong American hero bothered her deeply. She tried hard not to react to the plain panic in Steve’s eyes while Angie’s face was still on her. She made a snap decision, and decided the more honest they were, the better. “Agent? Why- the US Army, of course!”

Angie laughed, brushing Peggy’s comment away with her hand. “You’re funny! No- come on- tell me so we can help you guys get it all straightened out!” Angie’s smile faded as she watched Peggy’s straight face barely move. “Wait- you’re- you’re serious.”

“Yes.”

“But- this… this is a show. Why would the Army…” She looked between the two of them, truly confused.

Steve cleared his throat and stepped in. “There, uh, was an accident.” He looked down, and kept his eyes averted in a way that Peggy knew meant he was uncomfortable with what he was doing. “I couldn’t serve the way I wanted to, and some of the higher ups thought that this might be the best place for me.”

Peggy watched Angie’s face as she shifted uncomfortably. The young woman clearly hadn’t been prepared for what she thought was an injured veteran before her. Peggy reached out and took Steve’s hand, letting her thumb rub over the knuckle. “We’re very lucky to be here right now,” she nearly whispered, proud of how he’d managed to play his role.

“Oh my gosh, I am so sorry!” Angie, for her part, was now mortified, hands covering her mouth as she looked at the two of them. “You’re… wait- are you really married, too? I thought I just got re-cast!”

“What?” Peggy’s head swung around quickly.

“Betty Carver was supposed to be the love interest- the home front girlfriend of Captain America.” She rolled her eyes, talking out loud to herself. “I mean, I was thrown for a loop when I came over here and you were English! Couldn’t figure out why they’d recast the home front girl with an English gal, but…” She softened and turned, smiling genuinely. “Well, I guess it all makes a lot more sense, now.” She looked over at Steve. “You were really a soldier?”

He nodded, and Peggy pushed forward with the charade, skirting the line of reality as close as she could. “It’s how we met.”

Angie’s smile melted even further. “That’s so sweet. I wish I had a guy to write.” She shrugged, and switched gears quickly. “So, wait- you mean you’re really fresh out of the Army, no script or nothin’?”

“Nothin,” Steve confirmed.

“Well, you stick with me. I’ll show you the ropes, introduce you to everyone. Most of us have been taking gigs together for years now. After a while rehearsing and once we’re on the road we’ll be one big family.”

~*~

“I can sleep on the floor,” Steve said warmly, feeling gallant as he took a pillow from the bed even though he was drained from the way Angie had dragged them around the dining room, introducing them to nearly the entire cast.

Peggy pulled it from his hands and tossed it back on the bed. “Absolutely not.” Steve only knitted his brow at her. “The windows face the other side of the hotel. Even with the curtains drawn you can still see shapes. Plus, now that Angie’s introduced us around, I doubt she, or any of them really, will be too shy about stopping by. One overly nosy chorus girl sees you on the floor and starts talking and our cover is blown.”

Steve wasn’t convinced, and looked nervous now. “Still, I didn’t want to—"

“My modesty will survive if yours will.” She set her hands on her hips and looked at him, finding herself tired and frustrated after the afternoon they’d had. “One overly eager bell boy or maid comes in and finds you out of the bed, and we’re in the gossip mill. One wrong word to the wrong person, and this all goes south, you know that.”

He grabbed the pillow back from the bed, just as obstinate. “I don’t sleep that much anyway, it won’t bother me, Peg.”

Peggy shook her head, closing the tiny amount of space between them. “You and me, together against the world, right? But let’s get one thing straight, shall we? My official mission is to make sure you don’t get killed. If you die, I’ve failed,” she paused and smiled proudly, “and I never fail. Even more so than that,” she sighed, her eyes turning softer, “I’m quite fond of you, and I would very much appreciate you not dying.”

“Fond?” Steve nearly squeaked out.

Peggy smiled. Perhaps they’d been dancing about this too much, because his shock, after everything they’d said to each other this afternoon, was not the response she expected to her words. “Yes. Fond. So much so, in fact, that I might even let you take me on a date once this is all over.”

Steve flustered, surprised as he stuttered out, “D-date?” He cleared his throat and composed himself, nodding and looking anywhere but at her. “I mean, yeah. No. I’d love to take you out.” He took a breath and slowed himself down. “I’m… fond, too.”

Peggy smiled, turning her back, ignoring that he turned a deep shade of red. “Affection aside, we need to be comfortable with one another in public for strategic purposes: holding hands, casual touches, even kissing.” He’d very nearly gotten himself under control when she said that and she could see how hard he fought to keep his face from turning red again as she pulled the pillow from his hand, gentler this time. “When people see us, they need to believe we’re a couple, no matter if we love one another or can’t stand each other. Understood?”

He nodded swiftly.

She tossed the pillow down. “Now get in bed.”

He stared blankly at her for a second before sitting on the side of the bed, still fully dressed. “Did you… want to go to bed?” He asked cautiously.

She huffed, sitting heavily next to him. “No,” she admitted. “We need to talk this through. We can’t afford to get the details messed up. We came close a few times today already.”

Steve nodded. “I know. I tried to keep it as close to what really happened as I could, so we couldn’t mess it up, but—”

“No, that was good.” Peggy kicked off her heels and slid back on the bed, tucking her legs under her. “The closer we keep it to reality, the less details we have to remember. But the timeline is off. It’ll be what gets us caught.”

“Because according to the papers we were married before we even met.”

“Exactly.” She nibbled at her thumbnail, turning away to think. “And you were on the European Front. We need to figure out just exactly what your accident was, once these people get comfortable with us—”

“Angie’s already quite comfortable,” Steve mumbled.

Peggy hummed in agreement before continuing, “Once they get more comfortable, they’re not going to hold their questions for long. And it isn’t as if you’ve got anything overtly wrong that would take you off the front lines.”

Steve nodded. “They’re keeping every able-bodied soldier out there. It’s gotta be convincing.”

“Well, we should be able to fend off questions at least for a bit.” Peggy shifted, looking him over seriously.

Steve squirmed under her gaze. “What?”

“Just thinking,” she sighed, forcing her eyes to his. “If you were in your old body, we’d have no trouble passing you off as discharged.”

His laugh was somewhat self-deprecating. “If I were in my old body we wouldn’t be here.”

Peggy looked him over again, her eyes very pointedly popping up from the bed they were both sitting on once her gaze rested there. “Oh, I don’t know about that.”

His jaw fell, more out of surprise than anything, and he was even more surprised to see a bright red tint start to shade in around Peggy’s cheeks. She cleared her throat and looked away. “Goodness only knows how people get places, yes?” she asked quickly, pushing through the heavy seriousness that had fallen over them both. She stood, pacing with newfound energy as she tried to halt the images of just what they could do in a bed together. “What if you were in your old body? What could we say was the reason?”

Steve switched trains of thought with her easily, shrugging and curling over, so reminiscent of the frail boned boy he’d once been. “Gosh, take your pick. I’ll start with the A’s: anemia, asthma, angina, all kinds a’ scrawny… then there’s the scoliosis, high blood pressure, constant sinus infections. I had scarlet fever, then rheumatic fever…. Nothing ever felt the same after that.” He almost jumped when he looked up to see she’d managed to creep so close to him that she was leaning in only inches away from his face, staring, fascinated. “What?”

The amazed look on her face never faltered. “How did you ever manage Basic Training?”

He laughed nervously, the corner of his mouth quirking up as he shrugged. “You were there. You know I barely made it through most of the time.”

Her amazement shifted to pride. “Sheer force of will, I imagine, was the only thing between you and collapsing on that field.”

“Probably more often than you’d know.”

Peggy stood slowly and resumed her pacing. “Asthma would work.”

“They catch that right away. No hiding it. I never would have made it past the recruitment center. In fact, there were five times I didn’t.” She hummed, leaning back on her trunk, still looking him over. Steve tried no to hide from her intense gaze. “You know, that’s getting a little…”

Peggy turned her eyes down, shaking her head. “Sorry. Can’t help it.” She looked back up and smiled. “Seems Erskin’s serum worked a bit too well.”

~*~

Peggy stepped out of the bathroom, pin curls hidden under her kerchief, face scrubbed clean with just a light sheen of moisturizer on, her robe covering the only nightgown she had. She smiled when she saw Steve’s back, his face turned carefully away as he sat on his side of the bed. “You can look, you know.”

“I, uh,” as he cleared his throat she could see the pink creeping up his neck, “I didn’t want to presume.”

“I’m sorry to say that there’s nothing scandalous about me without my make-up or with my hair pinned for the night.” She carefully sat on her side of the bed, smiling as his shoulders tensed when he felt the mattress move. “Though I am in a nightgown, I wasn’t allowed to keep the army-issued pajamas.” He slowly turned, looking over, relaxing a little once he saw her. “What?” She chuckled, “Was that all that bad?”

“I just… I didn’t want to presume…”

“You said that already,” she smiled, unable to see anything else but the stammering 98-pound man across from her in the back of the car.

“I know, but it seemed…” he huffed, shrugging.

“You’re not scandalized?” she teased.

He smiled softly. “You look like my Ma.” Her eyes widened and he threw his hands up, rushing to explain. “No, I just, I thought you’d be- I don’t know, more- but not like- no, and then I turned and you were just- normal.” His hands started flying and his eyes darted back and forth as he panicked, words spilling from his lips that didn’t make any of his stuttering confessions better. “But no, not like that. Not normal. You’re pretty. I just assumed you’d be more since I imagined—not that I want more, you’re enough. But I saw you like that with the kerchief and that was just how my Ma used to do her hair and—” His eyes widened comically large, “No! I do not think of my Ma like that. Not that I did or would, but I thought of you like that—”

“You have?” she interrupted, completely amused and charmed at his stammering.

“I have!” He announced, proud, before he realized what he’d said, his face falling again and the stammering resuming. “No, it’s just that, I respect you. A lot. And you’re gorgeous. And we are married, but not for real so then I shouldn’t—”

“Steve!” Peggy smiled, put a hand on his. “Breathe!” He stopped his disjointed rant, looking at her and finally taking a deep breath in, eyes wild with pleading for understanding. “It’s alright. I understand what you’re trying to say.”

“Good,” he chuckled, turning more completely to her, “because I sure don’t.”

Peggy laughed lightly, taking her hands from his. “I believe I have an unfair advantage here as I’ve already seen you without your shirt, and ladies do tend to have quite a few tricks up their sleeves.”

He looked sheepish, swinging his pajama clad legs on the bed, eyes focused on his threadbare undershirt. “I’ve heard fellas say that they’ve seen their girls without make-up and their hair done and they look completely different. Made them not want to date them.”

Peggy shrugged her robe off, setting it on the chair next to the bed. Her nightgown wasn’t exactly revealing, she had dresses with lower necklines, but it was thinned from use and age and she didn’t have another. His eyes traveled her form, and she pretended not to notice as she pulled down the blanket and slipped into the bed. “And do I?”

“No.” He smiled, turning away to click off the lamp to hide his expression. “You’re…” he looked down, trying to pick his words carefully, “just as beautiful.”

Peggy bit her lip, unsure of how to respond as he slipped in the bed, the pillow between them separating their sides. “That’s a kind assessment,” she finally whispered into the darkness.

“It’s the truth,” he whispered back. “Good night, Peggy,” he added gently, looking over the pillow that separated them, the compromise they’d made to keep him off the floor and somehow save her virtue.

“Good night, Steve,” she whispered back, completely sure she’d have quite the difficult time sleeping now that she knew that unlike Fred, he didn’t seem to mind her as she looked not so done up.

[geekynerddemon]

This is the most thoughtful message I have ever received. Thank you.

I love a scenic route. I'm so excited to see it.

It's also interesting to see that Steve thought Peggy was unimpressed by Steve's comments and that is why he didn't attempt to say anything again. I see that little angst pepper you peppered.

@geekynerddemon, I'm your Steggy Secret Santa!

Your letter was so lovely, and I was really touched that you said that I could “gift” you an update to one of my WIPs. You’re such a kind and generous fandom friend - I always see you being positive and supportive on other peoples' fanworks. So I wanted you to have something special that was written just for you.

I saw this headcanon on your Tumblr, and I couldn’t resist expanding on the theme of Peggy wearing/stealing Steve’s T-shirts.

Of course, you also said that you wanted some angst before the happy ending, so we might have to take the scenic route to get to soft times and T-shirt crimes… and the route will be extra scenic for you, because I'm not quite finished your story.

Here's a small preview of what's to come. I hope to have the rest posted in the next few weeks. Merry belated Christmas, and thanks for being so awesome! Hope you're having a great day/month/year.

(Obligatory tag @steggyfanevents)

Having a Frenchman in their party opens all sorts of doors for Captain America and his Howling Commandos. 

On this particular evening, it will open the front door of a cabane en pierre sèche, known to residents around Digne-les-Bains and—thus far, at least—unknown to the German army. 

Using a three-pronged offensive of diplomacy, bourbon, and racy jokes, Dernier was able to coax the location from a cattle farmer who was skittish about hosting American soldiers on his property, but who eventually agreed to share directions to a stone hut that locals sometimes used as a hunting cabin.

“I think we’re lost,” says Dugan, for the fifth time. “Better let me see the map.”

Using the back page of Steve’s notebook, the farmer has drawn them a crude approximation of the path through the forest—cleverly concealed by Dernier with an even cruder doodle of a buxom blonde with Bambi eyes and a cartoonishly tiny waist. Unsurprisingly, everyone wants to play navigator.

“I’m the map,” says Steve, tapping his temple. “We’re right on track.”

Bucky claps Steve on the shoulder. “You should draw more sexy girls,” he says, solemnly, as if imparting important life advice. “You know, for morale.”

“I draw what I see,” Steve says dryly. “When was the last time we were within a hundred yards of a sexy girl?”

Bucky grins, and Steve realizes, too late, that he’s given his friend an opening. “Well, now,” he drawls, “that depends. Does Agent Carter count?”

She counts, for Steve, in more ways than one. But he knows better than to fall into the trap. “No,” he says shortly.

“Come on, Steve. You really never noticed that she was a beautiful dame?”

Steve has, in fact, noticed this—and what’s more, has told her so, to her face, in a moment of sheer lunacy that still makes him blush when he thinks of it. She wasn’t particularly impressed by his observation (or by him, generally) and he’s avoided making further such observations, either to Peggy or about her.

Bucky folds his arms expectantly. The other guys are quiet, seemingly occupied, but Steve knows they’re listening.

An ominous crackle of thunder gives him the out he’s looking for.

“Let’s pick up the pace,” he calls, increasing the length of his strides accordingly.

*

By the time the scrub and stunted oak recedes to open ground, they’re being lashed by the rain from all angles.

No one is entirely clear on the electrical conductivity of vibranium, so everyone gives Steve a wide berth as they cross the field. There’s a brief, uncoordinated scramble over some rocky ground, and then, at last, there they are.

The ancient stone hut isn’t much from the outside: a pile of rocks and moss that looks almost accidental. It’s easy to see why it’s been overlooked.

The inside consists of two rooms, each with its own fireplace. The back room contains a narrow cot, while the front room is furnished with a table and a few mismatched chairs, as well as a woodbox. Pelts on the floors of both rooms serve in place of rugs. The shelves are bare, aside from a miscellany of tableware, some hunting knives, and a couple of cooking-pots, to be used over the front room’s apron hearth. The window closures are just shutters and skins—no glass. Judging by the dust and cobwebs, the place hasn’t been occupied for at least a season.

Such glorified squatting is practically routine for the Howlies by now. Morita sequesters himself in the back room to tinker with his ailing radio kit; Jones starts a fire in each room, after checking to be sure the chimneys are clear; Dernier takes up a collection of ration-boxes and starts on dinner. The rest of the crew get to work securing windows, sealing up drafts, and chasing out wildlife. Dugan finds a stiff broom and redistributes the dust with unbridled enthusiasm until the others, eyes and noses streaming, beg him to stop.

Steve goes back into the storm to tackle the rusty pump. A solid ten minutes of super-powered elbow grease finally produces water that seems drinkable, if not aesthetically pleasing.

“Are you quite certain you found the pump and not the privy?” asks Falsworth, watching Steve decant the fruits of his labour.

Steve hangs the full pot over the fire. “Added vitamins and minerals.”

The fire is roaring, and it isn’t long before the water is boiled. Each man scoops a share, adding his own coffee or tea to make it more palatable.

There’s enough left for reconstituting their breakfasts in the morning, and for a quick wash, if anyone needs it—all of them almost certainly do, but they’re all tired, and too used to close quarters to care much.

Feeling warmer inside and out, they shuck off their uniforms and hang the essentials to dry. Everyone is wearing the standard woollen long johns as their base layer—everyone, that is, except for Steve, whose battle suit is twice as warm as standard issue. The same could be said for Steve himself, who endures the usual hooting and wolf-whistling when he strips down to his boxers and undershirt.

Dernier, supplementing the pitiful K-rations with some odds and ends from his own scavenging, has worked his usual magic over the hearth: a hearty stew of root vegetables in a wild mushroom gravy that looks more appetizing than anything Steve has made on his best day at home.

They portion it out equally among various plates, bowls, and canteen cups. Every flat surface becomes a seat, and nearly every mouth is too busy chewing to speak.

“Where the hell’d you find potatoes?” asks Dugan, who never met a companionable silence he didn’t feel the need to shatter.

“In the earth,” replies Dernier, his tone pure contempt. “Do they fall from the sky in America?”

Dugan makes a rude gesture.

Falsworth asks, “Do I detect fresh thyme?”

A torrent of rapid-fire French—something about herbes de Provence, and a few turns of phrase that Steve recognizes as generally unflattering, apparently aimed at English cooking.

Gabe translates, “Yep.”

The others laugh.

Morita emerges from the back room, the door slapping shut behind him. “Orders, Cap.” He squats over the hearth to collect his cup and spoon.

Steve pauses, his own spoon halfway to his open mouth, and waits.

“We’re picking up a friend.” Morita shovels stew into his mouth and swallows without chewing. “Should be here around 0200.”

Friend usually means British intelligence. 

Peggy Carter is, technically, part of the SSR. But she’s also on loan from the SOE, and occasionally they like to call in favours. She’s been out on an assignment for at least a few weeks now—doing what, he can’t be sure.

All around him, the scraping of cutlery on tin has stopped. Dugan and Barnes exchange a meaningful look before pivoting to face him. Steve can feel his ears turning red; he suddenly wants to tell them both to shut up, even though they haven’t said anything.

Carefully casual, he inquires, “Any ID?”

Morita nods, his face splitting into a wide grin. “It’s her.”

[TO BE CONTINUED...]

[doctorhelena]

I’ve created something for every day of Steggy Week 2024 over at @steggyfanevents! This is for Day 5 (Inspired By). Previous Days: Day 1 | Day 2 | Day 3 | Day 4

This cross-stitch was inspired by the adorable Stardew Steggy drawing that @roboticonography made for Steggy Month back in April (and stitched with permission!)

Here's a process gif!

[geekynerddemon]

Steggy Week Day 2: Headcanons and Metas

Based on @roboticonography ‘s fic Object Permanence.

Peggy has a tattoo on her that Steve designed.

Thank you @steggyfanevents for organizing this.

Part 2/3

[helly-ena]

Your fav pepperony fics? Pls give summary too

hi there, so sorry it took me... over half a year to get to this, i threw this into my drafts midway through compiling the list because i was sure that i was missing a few faves, and ended up forgetting about it entirely *facepalm*

in case you're still looking for recs, here are some all time faves of mine that i have reread often over the years <3

Mnemosyne's Lock by VR_Trakowski / 44.8k

It's Pepper who's hurt, but it's Tony who needs the comfort...

Written after Iron Man; now AU.

Drive by roboticonography / 27.2k

Tony and Pepper attempt a friends-with-benefits relationship. It goes about as well as you’d expect.

Seven Times Over by roboticonography / 7.4k

Seven different ways a "stable-ish relationship" might play out.

Pepper Potts Gets a Life by roboticonography / 6.5k

Pepper decides it's time to stop obsessing over Tony and get a life of her own. It doesn't go quite the way she planned.

inches and miles by jdphoenix / 6.8k

Nine times out of ten Tony's the one taking advantage when Pepper gives him an inch. But when they both slip up in the one way that matters most, fate takes the reins, taking them both that extra mile and then some.

On Soulmate Theory by gth694e (anthology fic) Chapter 4: Delayed Recognition / 2.4k

The most common misconception of soulmate theory is that a soulmate will always be initially recognized—through either logic or the rush of feeling. However, this is not the case.

The primary tenet of soulmate theory is that the words on a person’s left wrist represent the first words spoken directly to that person by their soulmate. But not everyone meets their soulmate in a tête-à-tête. Not everyone actually hears their soulmate say the words they’ve been waiting for their entire lives. And people can move around each other for years, not realizing that this person who somehow became a constant in their life is actually the person their soul was designed for.

Snowed In by tiny_spy / 9.2k

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Pepper whispered.

Tony and Pepper end up sharing a room in an overbooked hotel during a snow storm. Takes place in the middle of Iron Man 2.

for today or the rest of my life (orphaned) / 8.3k

Pepper finds a boyfriend. Tony hates to share.

Black Market Baby by sabinelagrande / AU / 10.7k

Tony's money buys him way more than he bargained for.

[historicalfictionsims]

Steggy Week 2024 - Day 5 (Inspired By)

This scene is inspired by @roboticonography's story Except Perhaps in Spring, in which Steve and Peggy find themselves pretending to be engaged during a chance encounter with Peggy's ex-fiancé Fred.

The story is very entertaining, and I highly recommend giving it a read. As I was going through to get my visual inspiration, the Howling Commandos' teasing banter made me chuckle.

What wasn't nearly as funny was trying to get nine Sims to sit down at the same time. It's trickier than herding cats! To make matters worse, thanks to the romantic boundaries update Peggy thought that she saw Steve cheating on her, and wanted to break up with him. Meanwhile Steve was feeling proud of himself for staying loyal to Peggy. Needless to say I did not save the game after this...

@steggyfanevents

[pepperonyfic]

I'm looking for fics set right after that roof top kiss in IM2.

Here are a few I could recall that take right after or sometime post-iron man 2.

Love is Being Stupid Together by sunshine-minx

Snowed In by MuchTooHighACost

After the Expo by TheSmoose

Picture Perfect by HesMine

Bootleg by CSI Clue

Reverse by FriendLey

To Sleep Perchance to Dream by gateship

Confessions of Love by kickcows

The Inbetween by lil'nomdeplume

Friday I'm in Love by lil'nondeplume

I Wanna Be Yours by fallenstar88

Edit: Thank you @widowkills, I was wracking my brain trying to remember the title for atrata's fic. And, how could I forget Drive! 😅 Thank you @newnewyorker93, adding your fic below.

The Long Tail by atrata

Drive by roboticonography

After the Rooftop by remreader

Probabilities by TheIronMechanic

You can also some more post-IM2 fics here

[theawkwardterrier]

WIP Tag Game

Rules: Share a snippet from whatever you’re currently working on, and then tag 5 people.

Tagged by my beloved @flyinghome-againstthewind - thank you, Anna!! Finished chapter 4 and my first 1k words of the day, so here's a bit more of the OL fic in frustrating progress while I'm on a lil break:

It would be, she realizes as soon as the words are out of her mouth, extremely easy for him to simply say that she is trying to preemptively cover for her own failure, that she doesn’t know a thing about him and his situation because the truth is that she doesn’t. As close as she might be planning on getting to him as a medical professional, one brief meeting yesterday and a few hours this morning certainly doesn’t mean that she truly knows the marrow of him. Yet it feels, strangely, as if she does, as if there was something on their meeting that already arrowed through flesh and into bone and sinew and heart. Stranger still, Jamie seems to agree, at least somewhat. He does not lash out at her or turn away in frustration, but steps toward her, the fire lighting him in a copper glow from behind. "It's kind of ye to say, Mistress, and perhaps I can even believe it a bit when I'm told by such a fierce wee thing as yourself." Perhaps, she thinks with some caught-breath distraction, she should be nervous, here alone in a room with a large man growing so near. Regardless of his injury, Jamie's calloused hands are as broad and capable as his body; he could subdue her with ease, if he truly wanted to. But there is nothing about him that makes her frightened, nothing that makes her move away, until he is within inches of her body, his palm level with her abdomen, and she remembers herself, remembers her priorities. She is not here to grow close to anyone, not here to make connections. She is here to gather information so she can go h...so she can return to the time that she came from and raise her child there in peace and safety. The tremble in her chest and the wavering in the air between them must be ignored, double-locked in a box at the back of her mind where they cannot distract her from that goal.

Tagging completely without pressure: @roboticonography, @kairosimperative, @captainjimothycarter, @scapegrace74-blog, and of course my best meme bud @lavellenchanted 💜💜

[themculibrary]

Steve and Peggy (Steggy) Masterlist 3

part one, part two

Ain't Love a Kick (ao3) - roboticonography M, 33k

Summary: Steve wakes up after the crash to find his life has changed dramatically - the main change being, he's married to Peggy Carter.

A Lot of Issues (ao3) - linascribbles T, 66k

Summary: Peggy Carter is a Fashion Editor at Sakaar magazine. She’s used to juggling egos, drama queens and ridiculous assignments from her boss all the time. She's even used to dealing with gorgeous six foot blonds on the regular. But none of that really prepeared her for Steve Rogers, his fumbling charm, or the gorgeous way he blushes.

Steve Rogers is a graphic designer who only models to make ends meet. New York is the perfect city for that, but just as NYC's fashion word is prolific, it is also... bizarre. In his line of work Steve's gotten used to losing significant chunks of his dignity quite often (He has a photo album about it, lovingly curated by the one and only Bucky Barnes), but maybe, just this once, he could avoid making a mess of himself in front of that beautiful model on this shoot. No such luck.

Certain I'm Yours (ao3) - Spacecadet72 G, 1k

Summary: Steve wasn’t suspicious, at first.

The Howling Commandos are less than subtle in their attempts to matchmake Peggy and Steve using a gift exchange.

church bells ring, carry me home (ao3) - mybestgirl T, 18k

Summary: A how-to guide on getting Steve Rogers and Peggy Carter married: step one, bachelor party. Step two, wedding. Step three, honeymoon.

Coffee Talk (ao3) - indiefic G, 1k

Summary: Jack Thompson is sick of Peggy Carter thinking she can do whatever she wants.

Don't Miss a Moment (ao3) - agentofvalue T, 40k

Summary: The war has been over for years. After five years, Steve even came back from the dead. Peggy married him and that should be the happily ever after. But, they are still Captain America and Agent Carter. With them, nothing ever goes according to plan. Not even impending parenthood.

I Just Keep Falling For You (ao3) - BuckyWithTheGoodHair86 G, 10k

Summary: Steve is starting to make a habit out of unexpected falls and sticky situations. Fortunately, Peggy always arrives in time to get him out.

In Bourbon Veritas (ao3) - doctorhelena T, 3k

Summary: There were actually two beds. Peggy just didn’t seem interested in getting in the other one.

International Incident (ao3) - linascribbles E, 112k

Summary: Peggy Carter rose through the diplomatic ranks in the midst of the Incident and in her short career already stablished herself as a skilled and well-connected negotiator. Stationed in the Washington DC embassy, she's right on the front lines of the fallout of Project Insight. Governments get purged, new and unexpected doors open, and Peggy Carter is nothing if not resourceful.

As she gets plunged into a world of spies, mad scientists and superheroes, familiar faces start to pop up. Particularly one pesky Captain America, who seems to have no idea what international law entails and considers country borders mere suggestions.

in the heat of battle (ao3) - littlereyofsunlight M, 42k

Summary: “After this is over,”—and wasn’t that everyone’s favorite pastime, here in relative safety, playing After the War as though one could even pretend to make plans for a life, as though this blasted conflict hasn’t already completely changed everything in this world, forever—

Peggy Carter has always been a fighter.

Just In Case (ao3) - captaindoritoes G, 2k

Summary: Hope you enjoy this a bit of angst, a bit of comfort fanfic - four times Steve and Peggy share a kiss, just in case it’s their last one. Their love language is touch - in this essay I will -

Letting Agent Carter In (ao3) - cadkitten E, 4k

Summary: Steve is still learning to draw the human form and when he finds the perfect solution in his head, he's not sure he can actually ask for it in person. But he'll be damned if he won't give it a try.

Pin Curls (ao3) - SomewhereApart T, 3k

Summary: Peggy Carter has imagined how she’d feel at the return of Steve Rogers a hundred different times. Still, she's unprepared for the reality of him, standing on her porch on a Sunday afternoon.

She Wanted (ao3) - TriplePirouette E, 3k

Summary: Peggy wants to eat Skinny Steve alive.

The Shops on Shield Street (ao3) - fluffernutter8 G, 5k

Summary: Running a small business is already hard enough without someone trying to sabotage things.

Time and Again (ao3) - Beshter N/R, 163k

Summary: When an insane man who claims he can travel through time appears out of nowhere, Peggy Carter agrees to go with him to save the world, little expecting the strange new life she'd be stepping into on the other side.

We Still Talk (ao3) - roboticonography M, 9k

Summary: Newlyweds Steve and Peggy take a holiday to get away from it all - but the great outdoors might hold more challenges than they bargained for!

we were born to be national treasures (ao3) - meidui G, 1k

Summary: “I’m back,” he chokes out artlessly into her shoulder, into the soft dark waves of her hair and the spiced floral of her perfume. He stopped believing he would ever get to go home after the war a long time ago, or that there would ever be an after the war for him, but—

“Right on time,” Peggy whispers, her voice shaking, and Steve’s next breath breaks on a sob.

Where poppies grow (ao3) - beautifulwhensarcastic T, 1k

Summary: The night preceding the procedure Steve can't sleep, which leads him to a surprising, touching discovery.

you can count on me (ao3) - sokovianaccords (thesokovianaccords) N/R, 5k

Summary: A Christmas mission for Agent Rogers and Agent Carter brings some things to light

[bulkyphrase]

Steggy Rec List

I meant to have this done at the beginning of the month in time for @steggyfanevents' Steggy Month but...that didn't end up happening ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

It is still April though! Please enjoy some of my favorite fics about Peggy Carter and Steve Rogers, my favorite canon couple.

A Second Chance At Keeping Him Safe by @buckywiththegoodhair86 (Teen And Up Audiences, 69,126 words)

Summary: Peggy always wished there was more she could have done to save Steve. Then Howard finds the Valkyrie, and somehow, miraculously, Steve is still alive in the wreckage. But when Steve wakes up, they realize that not all of him survived the crash. He doesn't remember anything. At all. But Peggy wanted another chance to keep him safe and now she's got it. And she's not going to fail this time.

Fraternization by @doctorhelena (Teen And Up Audiences, 3,424 words)

Summary: As if Carter and Rogers weren’t bad enough separately. Phillips is getting too old for this.

More below the cut!

Coffee Talk by @indiefic (General Audiences, 1,435 words, No Archive Warnings Apply)

Summary: Jack Thompson is sick of Peggy Carter thinking she can do whatever she wants. Also available as a podfic read by blackglass

Mind the Gap by @indiefic (Explicit, 27,106 words)

Summary: Set in 1974. Peggy is the fifity-five year old director of SHIELD and Steve's been found and thawed out. The series started as a drabble on Tumblr. Chapters have been updated so they are in chronological order.

Midnight Oil, Weaponized Aphrodisiacs, and Other Ignoramus Inventions by @indiefic (Explicit, 8,416 words)

Summary: General McGuinness stole one of Howard's more sinister inventions, Midnight Oil. Now the toxic compound is on the loose and America's golden boy has been exposed. Agent Carter to the rescue.

Twice Shy by justanotherStonyfan (Explicit, 13,976 words)

Summary: "What can I get you?" he said. "Hmm," she said, deciding what excuse to use as she pressed herself full-length against him in the darkness, as she slid herself upright beside him and pressed cool fingers to the center of his chest. "I'm…." She drew out the words, as though she were still considering what to tell him, what justification was needed, and Steve kept his eyes closed. He knew she could see him regardless of the lack of light. "…thirsty?"

6th and Williams by quigonejinn (Teen And Up Audiences, 1,453 words)

Summary: An hour passes, and so does the rain.

The Struck Bell by quigonejinn (General Audiences, 1,426 words)

Summary: Jean Grey inside Steve Rogers's head.

The Next Guy by @roboticonography (Teen And Up Audiences, 11,460 words)

Summary: "It’s the one subject that’s never open for discussion: Peggy’s grand love affair with Captain America. It’s not exactly a secret—in fact, it’s become something of a legend within the SSR. Everyone and their dog has a version of the romantic tale, pieced together through third-hand eyewitness accounts and wild speculation. There’s only one person Daniel wants to hear the story from, though, and she ain’t talking."

No Other Man by @roboticonography (Mature, 11,391 words)

Note: This is a sequel/companion to the previous fic

Summary: Peggy looks after a defrosted Steve during his recovery. But there are things she hasn't told him...

All Day, Every Day by @roboticonography (Mature, 21,143 words)

Summary: Steve is on his mission to return the Infinity Stones when his quantum suit glitches, and he finds himself sliding sideways through alternate realities, encountering different versions of himself. None of whom are particularly happy to see him. Can he do this all day? Time will tell!

if this is home by Siria (General Audiences, 17,145 words)

Summary: Steve keeps waking up in the wrong place.

Everything Old is New Again by Siria (Teen And Up Audiences, 8,460 words)

Summary: So maybe a job as an SSR desk clerk wasn't as glamorous as punching out Hitler more than two hundred times, but it still put a roof over Steve's head and food on the table.

[thesokovianaccords]

10 Books for 2025

I was tagged by the lovely @lavellenchanted - you're so right, the hardest part is only picking ten (from a truly horrifying number of TBRs good god)

The Stardust Grail by Yuma Kitasei is number one on my "next to read" list - as soon as I get the ebook from the library (shout out Libby my beloved). Sci-fi, heists, and the ethics of archaeology in the cosmos - it's like all of my favourite things at once.

Glorious Exploits by Ferdia Lennon is number two on my "next to read" list - Ancient Greece? Theatre? War and art? Yes please more please!

Blood in the Machine by Brian Merchant has been on my list for ages - and this is the year I'll finally read it. I'm all about resistance to Big Tech and understanding the lessons that can be learned from previous movements - including a much-needed reexamination of the Luddites.

The Story of Art Without Men by Katy Hessel is part of my deep dive into art history that I started last year - how many women artists do you know off the top of your head? I'm ashamed to say not many - and thrilled to change that!

You Didn't Hear This from Me by Kelsey McKinney is a release I'm super excited for this year. Gossip is such a complex and often gendered topic, and I'm excited to hear her take on it - plus Normal Gossip is such a good podcast.

The City We Became by NK Jemisin has been on my list for AGES and I found a copy at Powells last Christmas. This is one that I'm so excited to read - fantasy grounded in our world is p much the only fantasy I'll regularly read.

Infinite Archive by Mur Lafferty is the third in a wildly creative and engrossing sci-fi mystery series - I devoured the first two last year and cannot wait for this one to come out this year.

The Ministry of Time by Kaliane Bradley has been recced to me a few times, and for good reason - described in the blurb as "a time travel romance, a spy thriller, and a workplace comedy" which sounds so like my sort of thing it's almost embarrassing.

New Dark Age by James Bridle is one that I've come across recently, but I'm obsessed with the reality that despite how much information we have readily accessible, there's so much we don't know and that is hidden from us. When I wrote my dissertation, I was horrified to realise how little I or most people understood about the systems that run our entire world. Like...do you know how the Internet works? I didn't until I was 27, and even then it's a basic understanding. But we'll be lost without it. Horrifying.

A People's History of Computing in the United States by Joy Lisi Rankin is another recent add - from the same list actually. But I'm really trying to dive deep into how we understand computing and technology - I saw an amazing exhibit at the Tate last month about art and technology before the Internet, and I'm trying to lean into the non-Silicon Valley history of computing and communication. This reminds me of another book I read during my master's called Broad Band, which was about the women we don't always hear about who built the Internet. Excited to deconstruct Web 2.0 further this year!

Tagging @doctorhelena, @roboticonography, @steggyisimmortal, @elektranhatcios, @hemnalini, and anyone else who sees this and wants to talk about your top 10 reads for 2025 - I want to hear your ideas!

[cafecitowriter]

Bring Me You (Steggy Fic)

Summary: Steve decides to return to the past to live a life with Peggy, but nothing about his arrival goes according to plan.

It’s arguably the weirdest day of Peggy’s life.

A/N: Merry Steggymas, @roboticonography! I'm your Secret Santa!

You said you enjoyed canon and canon-divergent fics, snappy banter, swoon-worthy romantic gestures, comic misunderstandings, and of course, a good ole happy ending. So I hope you enjoy some post-Endgame hijinks where Steve tries to go back to Peggy, but ends up running into basically everyone else first.

Due to a combination of personal stuff and the fact that I've been travelling with spotty internet connections, unfortunately your gift is not done as I had hoped, and while I was so happy to hear the deadline has been extended, my current schedule means that it still won't be finished by then. BUT in the meantime, I do have this preview to share with you below, as well as this funky lil graphic. The full (multi-chaptered) fic will be finished and uploaded hopefully later in the early-ish new year.

Title taken from the song I Told Santa Claus to Bring Me You by Bernie Cummins and His Orchestra (which is about as holiday-y as this fic gets).

As always, thanks to @steggyfanevents for hosting!!

Fic Preview:

He’s hardly been sat in the squeaky booth for thirty seconds before one of the serves - a woman with bouncy curls and bright blue eyes - swoops in on him, half full coffee pot in hand.

“A coffee for your troubles?” she offers, not bothering to wait for an answer before pouring it into the mug that she must have brought over with her, because it certainly hadn’t been there when he arrived.

“You think I look troubled?”

“I think you look like trouble,” she teases with a breezy wink, clearly proud of herself for landing her own set up. “But that’s just my intuition. It’s what happens when you’ve been around here long enough.”

Despite her strong come on, she has a genuine warmness to her demeanour that makes Steve smile.

“You’ve been working here long?”

“Not anymore, actually - and good riddance let me tell you. I was never cut out for this line of work. But it’s my day off from rehearsals and Ruth called in a panic because two people called in sick and Marlene’s still out with her ‘sprained ankle’, and believe me, if it had been anyone else I would’ve said no but Ruth stuck her neck out for me during the peach cobbler incident of ’47 and now I basically owe her my first born.” 

The woman stalls to give an obvious side eye to the counter where there’s another woman wearing an identical uniform - a redhead who’s been wiping the same spot on the counter since Steve arrived - before turning back to him with a lower voice. “Although if she had told me Babs was going to be here I would’ve pretended to be on the other side of the country. Which come to think of it was probably why she didn’t tell me- oh shoot, your sugar shaker’s empty, let me get-”

“I’m alright, thanks,” he interrupts quickly, both because he hasn’t taken a drop of sugar in his coffee since the one time Tony made him try one of those fancy lattes shortly after the Chitauri attack, and because if she left now, he wasn’t sure when she would be back to take his order.

“You’re plenty sweet yourself, is that it?”

Steve shrugged, but gave her a smile all the same.

“Honestly, I’m just hungry.”

[doctorhelena]

doctorhelena's 2024 fanfic/fanart roundup

It’s that time of year again! Here is my annual fanfic/fanart roundup. (And here are the 2018,  2019, 2020, 2021, 2022, and 2023 versions!)

This year I posted:

4 different stories, with a total of 71,346 words (more than usual, and including my first ever AU of the "they have totally different lives and jobs" type!) 

10 different pieces of fanart (including two that were actually several separate drawings grouped together)

1 piece of fancraft (a cross-stitch version of someone else's fanart!)

Fanfic:

1. If You Could Read My Mind  (Peggy Carter / Steve Rogers) - 14,986 words A mix-up with one of Howard's spy lipsticks leads to Peggy and Steve spending an unexpectedly candid evening at home.

2. Not For A Million Bucks  (Peggy Carter / Steve Rogers) - 4234 words Jack Thompson didn't particularly want a front row seat to this show, but oh boy, he's sure got one.

3. A Stutter in Time, chapter 18 (Peggy Carter / Steve Rogers) - 5298 words (in this chapter) 1945 Peggy Carter appears in Tony Stark’s lab, and immediately throws a wrench into everything.

4. Teach My Feet To Fly  (Peggy Carter / Steve Rogers) - 44,574 words Peggy Carter, a world class ice hockey player learning to figure skate as part of a Canadian reality show, has an iron-clad rule about never, ever dating a teammate. Which means that she'll simply have to get over the ridiculous attraction she has to her new figure skating partner, Steve Rogers.

Fanart:

1. "Hey Peg, did you tell the kids they could use my shield?" (Steggy) Sledding is more fun on a vibranium shield.

2. Tobogganing (Steggy) The whole Rogers-Carter family goes sledding (on a regular sled this time!)

3. "There was a movie?" "It was a musical." (Peggy Carter) Captain Carter's version of "The Star-Spangled Man With a Plan".

4. "Oh, for God’s sake, Cap. Just stop talking. And kiss me again." (PeggyNat) Peggy and Natasha stealing a kiss on a mission.

5. "Steve, this dog is not going to move." (Steggy) They only need the one bed, but there is still a problem.

6. (From the Notebook of Captain S.G. Rogers, U.S. Army, 1945) (Steggy) Headcanon: Steve’s notebook has a lot of sketches of Peggy sleeping in weird places.

7.  Cover art for "Teach My Feet to Fly" (Steggy) I never posted this on its own without being attached to the story, but I did draw it!

8. What If... Fondue? (Steggy) Hydra Stomper Steve flies Captain Carter to Lucerne for a late-night fondue.

9. The Carter Family (Steggy) "Well, she works long, strange hours And he's got secret powers Before them, Hydra cowers: The Carter family!"

10. They don't always ask the band to play something slow. (Steggy) Peggy and Steve and a lively dance (under the mistletoe).

Other:

1. Stardew Steggy Cross-Stitch (Steggy) I made a cross-stitch of @roboticonography's adorable Stardew Steggy pixel art!

[lavellenchanted]

Last Line Game

Rules: Post the last line you wrote, then tag as many some people as there are words.

I was tagged by my beloveds @madroxed and @theawkwardterrier 🩷 One of several tag games I've been meaning to get to!

I am slowly working away at another kiss prompt still in my inbox:

“See what?” Cloud asks, his mind unable to grasp any thought that isn’t about the warmth of Aerith’s shoulder bumping his, or the way he can now smell that light, flowery scent that seems to cling to her no matter where or how far they travel. “The photos you took of me.”

I'm tagging: @beachy--head, @apinchofm, @fake-mouthstatic, @emilykaldwen and @roboticonography, if they want to play! 😘

[slightlykylie]

Tagged by @deliriumsfish, thank you so much! 😁

Favorite color: I will never not answer this question "rainbow." You can't make me not say rainbow.

Last song: Oh my God so many iterations of "You're the Inspiration." I have a seven-year-old autistic kid with quirky special interests, and right now Peter Cetera is it.

Last book: I'm just finishing up Hour of the Heart by Irvin Yalom. Interesting book, for its backstory and premise as much as its content. (Yalom, one of the leading lights of American psychotherapy, is 90 and losing his memory and so can't see patients long-term anymore, but instead of throwing in the towel he's now seeing people for one hourlong session each and writing about a selection of them. I have many thoughts.)

Last movie: The Penguin Lessons. I saw it with my aunt Kathy, who is completely checked out from the news and might well approve of it if she weren't, and I left the theater like "Oh my God this harrowing depiction of the realities of life under fascism was bone-chilling" and my aunt left like "Oh that penguin was so cute!"

Last TV show: The Last of Us, whom I'm never speaking to again.

Sweet/savoury/spicy: Sweet, I guess, but it depends on my mood. I'm rarely into spicy though.

Relationship status: Married. My wife and I met at lesbian speed-dating 20 years ago yesterday.

Last thing I duckduckgo-ed: The lyrics to "Stay the Night" by, of course, Peter Cetera.

Looking forward to: My wife and I are going out tomorrow to celebrate our 20th, so that'll be nice.

Current obsessions: I have a self-care app called Finch, where you have a little cartoon bird and you give yourself "rainbow stones" for achieving your daily goals and then you can use the rainbow stones to buy things for the bird, that I'm a little obsessed with. I'm not fangirlishly capital-O Obsessed with any person or show in particular right now, because I'm doing well emotionally and drowning in fandom is for when times are bad, but I do remain lowkey obsessed with the perfection that is Audra McDonald. And for a while I was into The Last of Us enough that I was writing fic for it, so maybe that counts, but now I'm not speaking to them.*

I hate tagging people in things like this because half the people I know seem to thrive on tags and the other half feel obnoxiously pressured and I don't know who's who, but let's tag @roboticonography and @curlywitch14.

______________________

*I am absolutely watching the next episode the minute it comes out but my eyebrows will be squinched into a V the whole time because HOW DARE

[peggyisqueen]

Some of my fave AO3 Steggy stories for Steggy Week! I’m not skilled enough to write fanfic - although my brain loves to make stories up that never make it to paper. However, I can lose hours of my life in these worlds and wonders created by the amazing fanfic authors mentioned below!

Love at First Late Night @capandcarter-blog

The Best Laid Plans @doctorhelena

Iron Ceilings shatter expectations @captainjimothycarter

Six Times, Dates & Places @triplepirouttes-blog

The Next Guy @roboticonography

Sarcophagus (sorry I can’t find the author to tag)!

It was Beautiful @buckywiththegoodhair86

There are also lots of other amazing fanfics available - and to be honest, anything written by any of the above is well worth diving into - so enjoy