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A Married Man

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The day Mr. Stark flees the country on trumped charges is the very same day you meet her, Peggy Carter. Or rather, it is the day that you meet her fists and find yourself lying in a back alley with a massive concussion.


You promise to help her in any way you can, but privately you doubt anything will come of it. After all, you're just a butler. You never expected to follow her into a never ending avalanche of molecular nitramene bombs, ruined suits, and Russian spies. You never expected to fall in love.


Peggy Carter is beautiful. The brown curls, long legs, and full red lips are enough to attract the attention of any man, but that's not what draws her to you. It's the way she carries herself, her confidence, her refusal to give up in the face of overwhelming odds. It's enough for you to abandon everything you've worked so hard for and barge into the SSR with a fake confession from Howard Stark.


You love Ana and will never leave her, but what you feel for Peggy Carter is on an entirely different level. Wrapped in a sea of guilt, you pamper your wife even more than you have before, cooking her favorite dishes and rubbing her feet at night. Still, nothing can extinguish the memory of handing Ms Carter the vial of Captain America's blood, the feel of her fingers touching yours.


...


It's late at night and you've been drinking sherry with Ms. Carter and Mr. Stark at the latter's new mansion in California. Mr. Stark has gone upstairs to answer a phone call and you're about to retire for the night. The maid can clean up the living room.


You say your goodbyes to Ms Carter and prepare to take your leave, when she stops you with a gentle touch to your shoulder.


"Have I ever told you what a lucky man Mrs. Jarvis is?"


You look into her eyes and it suddenly dawns on you. She knows. She's always known. She's simply been too polite to mention it. For the millionth time, you wish with all your heart that you existed in a different world. One in which you could court Ms. Carter as you pleased.


Instead, you take her hand, inhaling the intoxicating scent of her perfume, and bring it gently to your lips. Then you silently bow and take your leave. It's more than you ever hoped could be, but you can go no further. After all, you are a married man.