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Peggy spotted Steve bent over a desk from across the bullpen. It wasn't his desk; he took over any workspace he can find on the occasions he was actually in the office. His tactical team worked mostly in the field, but as lead, he got saddled with the paperwork. He let it pile up too and she would have to deliver strong words on behalf of Chief Thompson. They'd laugh about it, but there Steve would be in the office the next day.
She liked these days when they went into the office together. It still gave her a little thrill to see him doing things like walking down the corridor or working feverishly on paperwork. She adored the little moments like this, waking up next to him, sharing a meal, and being allowed to touch him whenever she pleased. She even cherished the times they fought, loudly and with much slamming of the doors. Given all they had missed, everything seemed a gift.
She moved closer and slid her hand across his shoulders to lean against his arm. He looked up at her with a smile.
"Hello, soldier," she said. "How's it coming?"
His stack had more than halved since the last time she'd checked on him, but he still had work to do.
"Slowly but surely," he said.
"I was going to get dinner. Care to join?"
He glanced between her and the paperwork. He wanted to finish. She had already stayed late given she wasn't working on a case. The office was mostly empty; the windows dark. She could hear Thompson jabbering away on his phone in his office. Only those who were also behind on their paperwork or were on call had stayed. She had plenty to do to get ahead, so she didn't mind.
"I think this will still take awhile. You don't have to wait," he said.
"I want to."
"I'm not close to being done."
"Don't leave your poor wife to languish."
"My poor wife?" he repeated with a snort. "Jesus, Peg, you're laying it on thick."
She gave him a wink and a smile. "How about I go pick up something from the diner and then you can take a short break?"
He looked as if he was considering it, but a holler interrupted them.
"Marge!"
Peggy flinched as it was Thompson who was shouting. He screeched at her from his office behind her. She waited without looking his way; she wouldn’t go running just because he called. She rolled her eyes at Steve and he bit back a smile.
"Hey, Marge! You go deaf?" Thompson said as he came out of his office.
She turned and leaned on Steve's shoulder like he was a fence post. Steve pointedly did not turn around.
"Yes, I have gone deaf," Peggy said. "Explosions took care of the first half and your dulcet tones took care of the rest."
"I don't have time for your quips. We got work to do."
"I was just about to go to dinner."
"Time for that later. Marybeth Healy is on her way up."
Peggy straightened, suddenly focused.
Marybeth was the key witness on Peggy's last case—the one she had been finishing up the paperwork for. The investigative arm had finished, and the files were being passed onto prosecution. Marybeth's husband had been brutally attacked, and she had seen the entire thing.
The husband was still in hospital and Marybeth and her seven-month-old daughter had a protective detail that Peggy closely monitored. The culprit had been caught, but Peggy wasn't ready to just leave Marybeth on her own.
She was a tiny woman, so thin it seemed like a stiff breeze would knock her over. She proved tough beyond appearances. Though a little weepy, she stayed strong through all the questions and walks through the scene and sleepless nights in the hospital.
The fact that there had been some development in the case and Peggy hadn't been told was outrageous. For obvious reasons, Marybeth had preferred Peggy to the other agents. If Peggy was out of the loop, Thompson or someone had intentionally left her out.
She'd even been in the office. 'You'd already gone home' had always been Thompson's favorite reason for overlooking Peggy.
"Excuse me?" Peggy said. "Why the hell are you dragging her in here? And why the hell wasn't I told?"
"You are being told," Thompson said with one of his smiles.
"That doesn't answer the first question," said Steve. He swiveled around in his seat so he was facing Thompson.
God help anyone who tried to fight her battles for her, but Peggy liked when Steve added little comments like that, little reminders he was there. She had backup; she wasn't on her own anymore. And it so happened her backup was quite a lot bigger than the men who gave her a hard time.
"I was getting there," said Thompson in a pacifying tone. "She's wanted on another case so she's going upstate for a few days."
"And this isn't something that can be done over the telephone?"
"Apparently not."
"Then, I should go with her," Peggy said. She didn't like Marybeth being out of her reach.
"It's a case from another acronym. We're lucky they're letting a couple of us tag along. Now, I need you to rustle up some paperwork."
For once, Peggy simply responded to Thompson’s request. There was a bigger fight this evening then him treating her as a glorified assistant. She didn't want to work him up just yet.
She went back to her desk, shoved all the pages into a folder, and rushed back to Thompson. He had gone back into his office.
"It needs to be sorted," she said as she dropped it heavily on his desk.
"Then, sort it," he said, picking it up and trying to hand it back.
She didn't take it.
"If I came along, I could handle all this. You won't need to worry about a thing. Surely there's room for one more," she said.
"Marge, you're not coming." Still with the folder in hand, he walked away, brushing past her back into the main room.
"Mrs. Healy trusts me. I should be there," she said, following.
"Marge, I swear," he snapped.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Steve's head snap up. He didn't like Thompson's tone either.
"It's my case. I should be there," she said.
"Lay off."
She opened her mouth for an equally petty response, but the door to phone bank opened and they both turned professional.
Marybeth entered with her daughter in her arms. She looked a little overwhelmed as her wide eyes stared around the room and landing on the enormous S.S.R. emblem on the wall. Witnesses rarely made it into the offices.
"Oh dear," said Marybeth.
"Welcome, Mrs. Healy," Thompson said with all his charm. "You remember Agent Carter—Rogers—whatever it is." Marybeth looked confused which was Thompson's purpose. "My apologies, she got herself hitched recently and I keep forgetting which name to use. Which you do you prefer, Marge?"
"Oh, I didn't realize," Marybeth said as she switched her baby from one arm to the other. The little girl was getting fussy. "Congratulations."
Peggy didn't get a chance to answer Marybeth.
"You didn't tell her?" Thompson said loudly.
"My marital status hardly seemed an appropriate topic of conversation given the circumstances," Peggy tried to say.
Thompson spoke over her. "She keeps things close to her chest this one," he jerked his thumb at Peggy, "and you'll never guess who the fellow is."
Thompson was such an ass. He acted as if he was boasting on her behalf but he was only making her uncomfortable. She didn't like to talk about it. It was private; it was between her and Steve. So, Thompson shouted about it whenever he got the chance. Because he was an ass.
"She doesn't have to guess," said Steve, joining the group.
Peggy had felt Steve get up as soon as Thompson had called her Rogers. Normally, Steve wouldn't have interfered with her work. He was not involved in the case except for what Peggy had told him at home.
"Mrs. Healy," Peggy said, "this is my husband, Captain Rogers."
"Oh," said Marybeth as her eyes going a little wider as she looked Steve up and down. "Captain—oh dear."
"It's nice to meet you," said Steve in the gentle way he always spoke to people who got a little star struck. "I'm sorry for all your troubles. How's your husband doing?"
"They hope he'll be home in a week," Marybeth said.
"That's good to hear. Thank you for all the help you've given."
"I couldn't stand by and let what happened to my Tim go unpunished," she said, sounding a little stronger.
"Of courses not. I hear you've been very brave."
"My word—and from Captain America too."
She was blushing and tried to distract herself by adjusting her daughter again.
"So," said Thompson with a clap of his hands, "we'll be off as soon as someone comes for the kid."
The color that had bloomed in Marybeth's cheeks drained just as quickly. "I can't—can't—bring her?"
"Thompson," Peggy warned.
He shot her a cool glance before speaking again. "Ma'am, this’ll be a very quick trip. It'll be much smoother without extra—" Peggy gave him yet another sharp look, "—people," he finished. "We'll be driving down tonight, staying in the half rate motel, getting up early for a day of interviews. To keep things moving—to get to home as fast as possible—we'll need to focus. No distractions, do you understand?"
"There's no one to take her. Tim is in the hospital," Marybeth said.
"Thompson," Peggy said.
"What about your mother?" he said.
"Ma's good for the afternoon when the baby's sleeping, but not for a few days. I don't feel comfortable leaving her. Especially after—after—I haven't felt safe," said Marybeth.
"The protective detail will stay—" Thompson began.
"That's not good enough," Marybeth said fiercely.
"Ma'am, I understand how upsetting this is," Thompson said though that clearly wasn't the case.
Marybeth looked hopelessly at Peggy, who had been her only ally against the brash male agents this entire time. Thompson saw the look and his face lit up.
"Wait, I have an idea," he said and Peggy braced for impact. "Why don't Mr. and Mrs. Rogers take her?"
No one answered.
"If safety is a concern," Thompson barreled on, "there's no better protection than Captain America. It'll give Peg a chance to practice. That's what comes next, right? The baby carriage?"
Peggy thought her head might explode. She didn't realize one could have quite so many emotions running through one's body as once. Anger and embarrassment were the overriding the rest.
"Thompson, a private word," she said.
"In a minute, Carter."
"Now, Jack."
His eyes flicked up to meet hers and he realized how serious she was. He gave a little mock bow towards his office. She marched ahead of him to hold the door. When he was inside, she snapped the door closed with finality.
"What the hell?" she said.
"You wanted to stay on the case."
"I want to—"
"You're not coming. We only have two rooms. One for the agents and one for Mrs. Healy."
Anger flared again. She wasn't coming because of sleeping arrangements? Because the boys didn't want to share? It was outrageous.
"I have slept—"
"In blizzards in Russia after walking a hundred miles uphill with Captain America strapped to your back. I know. It doesn't matter—you are not coming."
She tabled that topic for a moment. The most pressing issue was the fact he wanted to leave the child in Peggy and Steve's care. What in the world made Thompson think they were equipped to handle a child? If he was equating breasts to a knowledge of childcare, he had another thing coming.
"There has to someone more qualified to look after the girl," Peggy said.
"I can't think of anyone in the world."
"You haven't tried very hard."
"Well, it's because—"
"I dare you to say because I'm a woman."
"Because—" dramatic pause "—it is your case. Think of it as the chain of custody. Stay here and watch the evidence."
"She is not evidence. Her name is Violet, and she is a person."
"Whoa there, mama bear. See? You'll do just fine. Someone needs to watch the kid, and I'm assigning it to you. These are orders, Carter."
She couldn't rightly argue with that. Despite how little control he had over her or Steve, he was still the boss, still her chief. As unfair as that was. Someday she would be running the place.
Peggy breathed through her nose. "None of that matters if Mrs. Healy doesn't feel comfortable leaving her only child with us."
That was her ace in the hole. Peggy doubted Marybeth was ready to part with her daughter. If Marybeth wasn't going tonight, Peggy could make better arrangements for everyone involved.
"Well, let's go ask her, shall we?" Thompson said with another smarmy bow.
She yanked the office door open again and stalked back into the bullpen without waiting for Thompson.
At once, Peggy knew she had lost the argument.
Steve cradled the baby in his arms. She looked so tiny. He could've held her with one hand, but he encircled her so she could bury herself in the blanket and against his chest. Peggy too knew the comfort of those arms, and she didn't mind to share this once.
Marybeth was looking up at Steve with relief written on her face.
Steve was just too charming, and it seemed to work on children too. Violet's grizzling had stopped.
"That's better," Steve was saying. "Give your mama a break."
"She misses her dad."
"'Course you do, kiddo. He'll be home soon."
Marybeth smiled and Peggy really knew she had lost.
"New partner there, Rogers?" he said.
"Yup," said Steve confidently, cutting off whatever comment Thompson had lined up. Thompson never could get the upper hand on Steve.
Thompson cleared his throat to cover the moment. "Are we all set?"
Marybeth, Peggy, and Steve all exchanged looks.
"I don't want you to feel any pressure," said Peggy when no one else made a move. "You are doing them a favor. If you don't feel comfortable, you just say so. They will make other arrangements for another time."
Marybeth turned to Thompson. "One night. Twenty-four hours. If that's not enough time, they can come to me or wait until Tim is feeling better."
Peggy could only guess Thompson was excited to show off for whatever other agency as requested assistance. He was being as agreeable as he ever was because at once he said, "Deal."
Nobody asked if Peggy felt comfortable babysitting and it was too late to say anything now, especially in front of Thompson. She had to be everything at all times. She couldn't falter on the one thing he actually expected her to excel at. It was crude, hackneyed thinking, but there it was. What else did she expect from Thompson, Mr. It's-Sad-But-It-Doesn't-Make-It-Any-Less-True?
She had expected something more from Steve, though.
Thompson whisked Marybeth away to go over a few final things before they left and Peggy rounded on her husband.
"Some help you were," she said.
"What?" he said innocently.
"You didn't even try to argue. What are we going to do with her? There has to be some qualified childcare. Something better than us."
"It won't be so bad," said Steve.
She saw the situation clearly. "You wanted this!"
"I was kinda hoping. The woman needs a break. She'll get a night off even if it in some motel in the middle of nowhere and we get this angel for a day. It'll be fun."
She marveled at him. He always saw the best in everything. Peggy saw a baby, an undeniable sweet one, but still just an ordinary child with dark hair and dark eyes. She felt certainly Steve was seeing a cherub with rosy cheeks and perfect ringlets.
"Fun is not the word that springs to mind," she said and then admitted her secret in rush. "I know nothing about children."
"There's not much to know. Kids are easy. Simple needs and lots of love, right?" He rubbed the baby's cheek with the back of a finger.
Violet was entirely content. He bounced her up and down just a little, like he knew what he was doing, like it was practiced. He handed her with confidence and she had settled down.
"When did you learn all this?" she asked.
He shrugged. "You pick things up. Mom used to babysit all the time—she was a nurse, and it made the other mom's feel better. Bucky had a house full of kids and he was the oldest. I did my fair share of baby kissing on the old tours too."
It looked good on him, Peggy decided, and she couldn't figure out what to call the new emotion that the thought stirred deep in her stomach.
One look at him and Peggy knew he hoped to hold his own child like that. They had never discussed adding to their family. One look at him and she didn't need him to say it.
She had never had a strong opinion about motherhood. Once upon a time, she had thought it would be her path, but she had sidestepped and never looked back. Under her crisp, British mannerism, she had always been the nurturing type, though. It wasn't necessarily affectionate, but she looked after people, kept them safe. She didn't think she'd be a bad mum.
There was a lot they had never talked about. From the day they had met, making plans had seemed to be beyond them. They never knew what the next day would bring. Tonight, for example, had gone off the rails. Somehow, a child falling into their laps seemed a small disruption compared to other things she and Steve had been through.
"It's frustrating sometimes," she said to distract herself. "Is there anything you can't do?"
He considered carefully. "Sing," he said.
She laughed and didn't disagree.
He seemed confident enough, and they were unstoppable together.
The first obstacle was getting Marybeth to leave. When Thompson finished what he needed, they had rejoined Peggy and Steve. Steve had given Violet back to her mother and Marybeth clung on as if the world was ending.
Peggy didn't blame her. Marybeth had already come close to losing so much. Peggy related too painfully to that feeling, so she waited for Marybeth to be ready. Marybeth stalled for as long as she could.
She had packed for the weekend regardless of where the child would stay and she took her time going over every item and every part of the normal routine. Both Peggy and Steve listened carefully. Peggy needed the instruction, but she guessed Steve was only trying to be reassuring.
Thompson stood off to the side and shifted his weight from one foot to other. He didn't hide his impatience well, but at least he didn't interrupt.
A junior agent appeared and said something in Thompson’s ear. Time was up.
"Mrs. Healy, the car is waiting," he said with surprising gentleness. "Violet will be in good hands."
Every once and awhile he wasn't so heartless. Though, it didn't matter because Marybeth burst into tears.
Peggy stepped forward to rubbed Marybeth's back. Peggy pulled out her handkerchief to offer to Marybeth. Marybeth mopped at her eyes around the bundle that was Violet.
"I'm sorry—being silly," she said in between gulps of air.
"You've been through a great deal," Peggy said softly, "and now you have to go spend hours with a carload of smelly men."
Marybeth gave her a half smile.
"She'll have the very best care," Peggy said. "I promise. Top priority. You'll see her tomorrow."
Marybeth nodded reluctantly and her grip loosened. She placed her daughter into Peggy's waiting arms and Peggy had never felt so trusted before. Not even when the Howling Commandos and everyone up the chain of command were counting on her to get a mission right. Sometimes, there was something bigger about regular life.
"Mama loves you very much," Marybeth whispered. "I'll be back soon."
She looked up at Peggy and Peggy nodded, doing her absolute best to fill Marybeth with confidence. She looked to Steve next, and he gave her a comforting smile too.
Thompson set his hat on his head and angled it deliberately.
"Captain. Agent," he said. "You three have fun."
He sounded as if he was dearly hoping for the opposite. He flashed them one of his smiles and sidled off, taking Marybeth with him.
"Ass," said Peggy.
"Not in front of the baby, dear," said Steve.
Peggy didn't respond to his teasing. She looked down at the girl in her arms. Violet fussed, reaching out to where her mother had been. Peggy was at a loss. She was holding Violet correctly, and that had exhausted her knowledge of children.
"I'll get our things," he said. "I don't see any reason to hang around. Thompson seems to have forgotten about my paperwork."
She wished he wouldn’t leave her alone even for a moment. The fussing was turning into actual crying. Peggy hoped Marybeth couldn't hear.
She waited for him to come back, feeling foolish. There wasn't really anyone around to see, but she felt it nonetheless.
He reappeared, and she tried not to sigh with relief. He had a briefcase with papers sticking haphazardly out of the top and the jacket that matched her skirt over his arm.
"Try bouncing," he said. "Up and down, instead of side to side."
Peggy followed the instruction and it seemed to work.
"See?" he said. "Easy."
Peggy didn't know about that. She was worried she might set Violet off again.
"You take her," she said. "She was happy with you before."
"You're doing fine," he said.
She passed Violet back to Steve anyway. She hid another sigh of relief.
"I'm driving," she said.
"Yes, dear."
He smirked, and she tried to return the smile. Peggy's need to drive was a long-running joke between them. Mr. Jarvis was the only person she willingly allowed behind the wheel if she could help it.
She took the large bag Marybeth had left and headed home without speaking to anyone else. They made it all the way to Brooklyn without incident.
"Is there anything for dinner?" Peggy asked when they were inside. She set their things down on the little kitchen table where they rarely ate but piled all their odds and ends.
He had already laid out a blanket on the carpet in the living room for Violet. He set her down and dug through the bag to find something for her to play with. She kicked her legs and waved her arms and didn't seem to care what he was holding out to her. She wasn't crying, though.
"Don't think so," he said, still kneeling on the floor.
She picked up the handbag she had just set down. "Don't expect anything fancy," she said.
"You're going now?" He had such a look of genuine surprise on his face as he looked up at her.
"We need to eat, dear."
"But it's bedtime."
"Do you require my assistance?"
He shrugged. "I thought—I don't know—we could do it together."
"You get started. I'll be right back." She leaned down and planted a kiss on his cheek, leaving behind a smudge of her lipstick.
He watched her leave. She hurried to the corner store and back after getting the supplies for a quick spaghetti dinner. It was better than military rations so she doubted Steve would complain. They were both decent cooks if they only had the time.
Back in their apartment, he had moved into the kitchen. He was leaning over the sink giving Violet a bath. Peggy moved closer, making as little noise as possible.
He held Violet cradled in one hand. Her head in his palm and the rest of her stretched out along his forearm. She fit neatly. He was dipping a cloth into the soapy water below and rubbing it across her chest and tummy. Violet wiggled a little but seemed content.
"See, there's better, isn't it?" he was saying in a soft tone. "No need for all that fuss. What's for dinner?"
It took Peggy a moment to realized he was talking to her. His tone hadn't changed.
She told him as she set the shopping down. She moved closer and held on his arm, leaning her cheek against his shoulder. "How are we doing in here?"
"Didn't like the bath much at first, though. Did you, little one?" Violet smiled at the playful sound he gave his voice. He squeezed the cloth over her head and the smile vanished. "Ah, ah, ah," he warned in the same tone. "No more tears. We made a deal, remember? Just a little longer. You're almost done. Nearly done."
Violet seemed to be making up her mind whether to listen to that deal.
Peggy tickled Violet's foot to distract her. Her head turned in Peggy's direction and she smiled.
"See?" Steve said. "Easy. She likes you."
"She's a baby."
"So? Doesn't mean she can't be a good judge of character. She knows she can trust you."
She shook her head, but she was smiling too. He was certainly overthinking Violet's reaction, but it was nice to be liked. She spent so much time fighting against just about everyone except Steve. Taking a smile at face value was comforting.
She glanced up at Steve again, hesitant to see the look on his face. His serene focus was on Violet. Peggy noticed the lipstick she had left behind.
He'd set the washcloth down, and she picked it up.
"The baby isn't the only one in need of a wash," she said and scrubbed at his cheek a little more viciously than was necessary.
"Hey!" he said with a little boy’s whine.
She shook her head and smiled broader. "You're such a child."
"Am not."
"Are too."
"Let's not argue in front of company," he said.
"Don't use the child as an excuse."
They were both laughing and Violet was giggling too at the lightheartedness.
Coming home was always such a relief. Leaving work at work wasn't something they were good at but some days it was too easy. They teased, kissed, and touched and every care in the world melted away.
Violet was finished with her bath and Steve wrapped her up in a towel.
"Squeaky clean," he said. "To Aunt Peggy you go."
Before Peggy could object, Violet was nestled in her arms again.
How did that keep happening?
She squirmed even though she seemed happy enough to be done with her bath.
"Come on," Peggy said. "Can your deal with Steve extend to wiggling? I'm not very practiced at this, so take it easy on me." Violet continued to squirm. Peggy tried copying Steve tone. "What do you want, little one? What do you need, eh?"
Cautiously, she moved Violet to her shoulder so Violet could look around the room. Peggy braced her back so she couldn't topple over backward. The towel sat on top of her head like a little hood. She bounced a little because she had already learned movement always helped keep Violet happy.
Peggy was relaxing a little. It wasn't so bad—cute even. It was clearly what Violet wanted. She cooed happily as she gazed around the apartment, taking in the floor to the ceiling and Steve moving around.
"There you go," Peggy said softly. "You wanted to see what's going on, hm? You and me both, darling."
Peggy tucked Violet close to her cheek. She took in the baby's almost intoxicating smell. It was the mild soap mixed with the detergent from the terry cloth mixed with something undefinable but comforting.
It really wasn't so bad. She listened to Violet's babbles and wondered what she was trying to say.
"Where are your pajamas?" Peggy asked. "Don't want you to catch cold."
Steve was already fishing them out of the bag.
Peggy knelt down on the rug beside the blanket he has laid out. Gingerly, she set Violet down and unwrapped the towel. Even without Steve's large form to compare to, Violet seemed so small.
"Nappy," she said like a surgeon calling for a scalpel.
"A what?" Steve said.
She looked up to explain, but he was holding out a cloth.
She pursed her lips and snatched the cloth out of his hand. "You know perfectly well what I meant."
One of their favorite ways to pass the time while on a stakeout or waiting for a pickup was comparing words between British English and American English. They still played sometimes.
"Hey," Steve would say while they waited for the subway, "what do you call a sweater again?"
There weren't many words left to compare, but it still passed the time. Mostly, he liked the way she pronounced things.
He was grinning.
"Cheeky," she added.
He dropped down beside her and Violet and leaned against the armchair with his legs stretched out in front of him.
Peggy realized she had no idea how to fasten the cloth.
"Do you need—" began Steve.
"No," she said quickly.
She was perfectly capable of figuring it out. How hard could it be?
Turned out doing origami around a wriggling child was, in fact, very hard. She played hot and cold with the expression on Steve's face and she managed it. Every time she started to do something wrong he would frown slightly or his fingers would seem to twitch as if he was aching to take over.
"Here, we call these pajamas," Steve said when the nappy was at last in place.
She took the soft yellow onesie printed with little ducks from him. It was another struggle to get all four of Violet's limbs in the right place.
It seemed quite the ordeal, but at last Violet was ready for bed.
"See?" said Steve. "Easy."
"Your definition of easy is a bit different than mine," Peggy said.
"You looked like you were planning an entire battle campaign," said Steve.
"Oh hush."
"You get a wrinkle in your forehead just here," he pointed, "when you're concentrating."
"I said hush."
"I used to notice it when you would study maps and things."
"I'm warning you, Rogers," she said, but she was trying to keep a straight face
He got up and moved into the kitchen. "It used to make listening to briefings so hard." He sighed in the worst lovesick way.
"He's like a puppy," Peggy said to Violet. "A very large, very sad puppy. Do you know what a puppy is? Woof woof, right?"
"I heard that," he called.
"Woof, woof," Peggy said again, tugging on Violet's legs with each bark. Violet giggled. "You like that, hm?"
She ran her fingers across Violet's belly and Violet laughed harder. She caught Violet's foot again and pretended to gobble her toes. The laughing was infectious.
Steve returned and leaned on the back of the sofa. He said nothing. Just watched her; she didn't like it and she didn't know why.
"Can I help you?" she asked, still playing with Violet.
"Just making a bottle."
"And staring."
"I guess I like what I see." He shrugged. "Want to give her her bottle?"
"I think it's your turn. You give her dinner and I'll get started on ours."
She picked up Violet as she got up from the rug and handed her to Steve.
He cradled her in one arm and fished a cloth out of the bag. He tossed it across his shoulder. Again she was struck by how natural the motions were for him. How practiced. Just picking the baby up still seemed an accomplishment for Peggy and here he was multitasking with her in one hand.
After retrieving the bottle, he settled on the sofa. Violet made little snorting noises as she greedily pulled at the bottle.
The apartment was small, and even though she lost sight of the others when she was in the kitchen, she could still hear them.
Steve was talking to her gently. "There you go. That's a girl."
Peggy moved the pan he had used to heat the formula into the sink and got out another pot to boil water for the pasta.
While she waited, she slipped back into the living room so she could watch. She leaned on the door jamb and he didn't seem to know she was there.
"Your mom said you might not be too happy with the bottle, so thanks for making it easy." He paused for a moment. "Aunt Peggy would say mum, though, wouldn't she?"
Peggy returned to the pot to stare at the water that was only starting to bubble. That complicated emotion was back in the pit of her stomach.
She switched her focus to dinner, and it abated. She was always so task oriented.
She heard Steve get up in the other room and the sound of the door to the second bedroom opening and closing.
She was mixing in the sauce—the last of a homemade batch from Angie's mother—with the plain noodles when he came back.
"Out like a light," he said as he put the half finished bottle into their refrigerator. "Too tired to even finish."
"Long day," Peggy said.
"Her or you?" He moved closer and encircled her from behind, kissing the crook of her neck.
She leaned into him and closed her eyes for a moment.
"Both of us," she said as she opened her eyes again. "I hope Mrs. Healy is doing all right."
"I'm sure she's fine. Probably looking forward to sleeping through the night."
Peggy doubted that. Marybeth wasn't on a vacation. Her husband was injured; her child was with virtual strangers. She was away from home and separated from her family. Peggy shivered.
Steve had gone back to kissing her. It was usually the easiest way to get her to relax but it wasn't working tonight.
"Are you okay?" he asked.
"Let's eat," she said. "I wanted dinner two hours ago."
He took over doling their meal into two bowls and she cleared off the table.
"What's the occasion?" he said.
If they were home for dinner, they sat in the living room on the couch, talking with their mouths full as they rushed to get caught up. There just never seemed to be enough time. It always felt like a mad grab when it was just the two of them. Setting the table seemed such a waste of something so sacred. They had missed so much already.
"I don't want to sit so close to Violet’s room and wake her.”
That answer seemed to satisfy him and he sat.
They talked about their days, the details about the Healys' case, everything, and nothing. Both pointedly ignoring what had become an elephant in the room: the future. Violet had unknowingly opened a door that Peggy hadn't even known was there. What Steve wanted was clear to her, but she hadn't ever considered it.
She wanted moments. The day he disappeared it had been missing a dance that had gutted her so viscerally. It was losing him too, of course, but that one broken promise had become the incarnation of that loss. It had walked next to her as she moved through his city, it had sat next to her while she worked, it had hugged her when she tried to sleep. Now, all she wanted was for him to replace that empty space. She wanted to walk with him, see him across the S.S.R. office, make love to him in their bed. If she got those things today, what did tomorrow matter?
Tomorrow was shaking her by the shoulders now and she still tried to ignore it.
He let her avoid the subject. He maybe didn't know what she was working through, but he always knew when she was like he knew there was a crease in her forehead when she concentrated. His observant eyes had seen things about her no one else had. They had that in common.
They did the dishes when they had finished eating. He washed, elbow deep in soapy water, while she dried.
It was still a couple hours before they usually went to bed. He went back to his paperwork, and she teased him, but she wished she had something productive to do. Thompson had all her paperwork. She pretended to read a novel she had been working on for ages; she didn't get much farther.
They, at last, got ready for bed, switched off the light, and slipped between the sheets. She reached out for his arms and pulled them around her like a blanket.
"You were quiet tonight," he said softly into her ear.
"Just focused," she said.
"Taking the mission seriously?"
She could feel him smiling.
"Always," she said.
There was a pause. "When you want to talk about it, I'm listening."
"I know." She should've known he wouldn’t let her off scot-free. He wouldn’t pressure her to talk, but he was also telling her he had noticed.
He hooked a finger in the collar of her nighty and tugged it down to expose her shoulder. He kissed it and moved up her neck again.
"Don't you start anything," she said.
"Never," he said. Another kiss. He was clearly trying to start something, but she wasn't in the mood. It would be a distraction and she found she wanted to wallow.
"You're an idiot."
"A lovable one."
"Very."
"I love you too."
He drifted off and rolled away from her. That was usually a good thing. As much as she loved falling asleep in his embrace, he was too warm. Tonight, she wanted him around her. There was no use in trying to move him. Without his cooperation, he was as heavy as a mountain. She had to be content with his arm flung possessively across her torso.
When she slept, it wasn't deeply. She felt like she was back on night watch during the war. It was the same kind of attention, the same straining for any sound of movement. She couldn't convince herself she wasn't on guard. She would drift off and then snap awake like she'd been caught doing something wrong.
There wasn't cause until maybe the third time she jerked awake. Violet was crying. Steve barely stirred so Peggy got up.
Padding on bare feet, she crosses the apartment and opened the door to the second bedroom. The room was part office, part guest room, part closet. There was a daybed against one wall buried under stacks of files. There was a desk also covered in papers. Boxes pulled from storage after Steve returned had found their way in here. He'd had even opened the ones on the bottom of the stacks. Tonight, it was part nursery too.
Violet started to cry even harder when she knew she had someone's attention.
"What's the matter, little one?" Peggy asked, leaning over the baby.
Violet waved her arms up at Peggy, but Peggy didn't pick her up. Marybeth had said rubbing Violet’s stomach was enough to quiet her.
Peggy spread her hand over the soft cloth and moved it in a small circle. Violet was having nothing of it. Her cries grew no louder but her arms waved more frantically.
Peggy knew she was supposed to let Violet sort herself out a bit more, but she couldn't stand the desperation. Violet wouldn’t understand where her mother and father had gone. Peggy couldn't deprive the baby of the only thing that could be a comfort.
She picked Violet up and cradled her closely, bouncing the way Steve had told her.
"Hush," Peggy soothed. "I know I'm not who you want, but this is the best I can do."
The crying easy, but Violet didn't stop entirely.
Peggy felt Violet’s bottom, and it seemed dry. She didn't know what else to do.
She tried more soothing words and then a little humming. The humming was a distraction—probably because how badly Peggy was at singing—but when she stopped Violet cried again.
Peggy was at her ropes end. Violet would be fine, but somehow it had become about more than this moment. She was worried about what it might mean for the future.
Steve wanted children and Peggy didn't know what she wanted. At the very least, she wanted to be confident in her skills. She didn't want to make a decision out of fear.
She should be able to do this. She had faced armies, and she was felled by a child. She needed help.
She opened the door and nearly collided with Steve.
"Steady," he said with a smile as she leaped backward in surprise.
"I can't make her stop crying," Peggy blurred out.
"I think she might want this." He held up the leftover bottle.
"You damn fool," Peggy said to herself.
"Hey now, no need for name calling."
"Me. Not you."
"Doesn't matter. C'mon, let's go back to bed."
She defaulted to Steve and let him lead her back to their room and their bed. He propped up the pillows and settled Peggy down with Violet still in her arms. He sat next to her and held the bottle.
Violet took it at once. The crying stopped and was replaced by the happy snorting noises.
Peggy leaned her head back against the headboard and stared at the ceiling.
"I should have thought of that," Peggy said.
"Nah, Mrs. Healy said Violet usually just needs a little help to soothe herself. I'da done the same thing you were doing except you were already doing it."
"How do you know so much?"
"Practice. You'll get hang of it." He paused. "If you want to."
Violet finished the bottle and promptly fell back to sleep. Steve took her from Peggy and she expected him to take her back to the other bedroom. Instead, he placed the baby between them and laid down against his pillows. He closed his eyes.
"Why aren't you taking her back?"
"She's alright."
"What if you roll over on her?"
"I won't."
Peggy sighed in frustration. She wormed her way down to be horizontal but kept her head propped up on her elbow so she wouldn't fall asleep.
The scene quieted as she listened to their steady breathing. He wasn't asleep, though.
"You want this, don't you?" Peggy asked quietly.
He knew what she meant without having to explain any further.
"I want a family," he said. "If that family is you and me, I'm happy. If that's you and me and a house full of kids, I'm happy."
"But you want children?"
He opened his eyes but didn't answer. He didn't really have to.
"Don't you?" she repeated. She wanted to know exactly what he was thinking.
"Yeah, I do."
"Why didn't you say anything?"
It took a while for him to answer. "Maybe it's the same reason you haven’t married me."
Peggy covered her face with a hand so she didn’t have to look at him.
They weren't legally married. They had the license but had never gone to the courthouse. Something always came up. Peggy knew they would spend the rest of their lives together. Not that she wouldn't marry Steve; she felt like she already had.
They called each other husband and wife in private and in public. Peggy wore a plain silver band that had belonged to Steve's mother. She had put it on to fool the landlady when they applied for the apartment. Miss Martin and Miss Fry would get along like a house on fire. Steve had needed a place to live when he returned and it made no sense for him to find anywhere alone even temporarily. The ring felt right, so she had continued to wear it. As far as anyone knew, Peggy simply hadn't changed her last name.
It wasn't entirely her fault. She and Steve were both complacent in planning the actual date, but she was the one who said they'd worry about it later.
She had dropped her hand. "I don't need a piece of paper to prove that we're in this for the long haul," she said as she had many times before.
"I want to see you in a white dress is all."
"We'll go to the courthouse and come home to sleep in the bed we already share. If there’s moral outrage, the neighbors and God can keep it to themselves. He has put us through enough. He—" Her voice cracked and she couldn't continue.
"Peggy," he said softly.
A little hiccup of a sob escaped her. She sounded like Violet. He reached over and put a hand on her cheek. She leaned into the touch.
"It doesn't have anything to do with the paperwork, does it?" he asked.
She shook her head, realizing it at the same time he did.
He sat up and kissed her on the forehead. She didn't move. He got out of bed again and lifted Violet up. He disappeared for a few minutes. When he came back, he pulled Peggy back into his arms. He was on his back and she used his chest as a pillow. He held her closely, wrapping around her shoulders like a blanket.
"I don’t blame you,” he said. “I put you through hell. I'm surprised you wanted me at all—I'm always surprised by that. I keep waiting for you to realize you could do so much better."
"Better than Captain America?" She smiled.
"I'm not really him. Steve Rogers is that skinny kid from Brooklyn."
"That's who I love the most. That's who I'm afraid to—to lose."
"You're stuck with me with or without that piece of paper."
"It still feels a little like tempting fate to do anything permanent, to even make promises."
"To hell with fate. It can go fuck itself."
"Rogers!" she said in mock outrage at his language.
"Let's just be happy. No pressure. Married, not married, kids, no kids. We come home together at the end of the day, so I don't care about the rest. I love you, Peggy Carter."
"I love you too."
"That's what matters."
She believed him; it was fate she didn't trust. Fate put them on the same path. Fate took him away. Fate gave him back.
Fate was a fickle son of bitch and she realized she had been dealing with SOBs all her life. The best way to shut them up was to prove them wrong.
Steve was right and with that thought, she closed her eyes.
It didn't last long, but Peggy had no trouble getting out of bed when Violet called early for her breakfast. She seemed happy to see Peggy when she went to pick her up.
She took Violet back to Steve. He was still pulling himself from the depth of sleep.
"Morning, ladies," he said with a yawn.
"Good morning, darling. Would you distract little madam while I make breakfast?"
"Happily."
Peggy passed Violet over.
"And we're not going in today," she said.
He raised his eyebrows.
"You brought work home, and the cat is away."
"The cat?"
She headed for the kitchen. "His name is Thompson and he is a very fat, useless cat that the mice pay little attention to anyway," she said over she shoulder.
He laughed.
She made the bottle first and brought it to Steve. With Violet content again, Peggy made toast and eggs for the adults. She called in to let the office know she won't be in and found out when Thompson was expected back. The answer was late afternoon and Peggy promised to be waiting.
With two plates heaped with food, she went back to bed. She set Steve's on his nightstand for when his hands were free and clambered next to him on the mattress.
"What shall we do today?" she asked.
"Maybe just this."
Peggy was usually against sitting still but the idea didn't sound half bad to her. "We have to go to the market and be in by four, but okay."
They grinned at each other and the rest of the world melted away.
They stayed in bed all morning. Steve eventually got his paperwork and read them out like it was an exciting bedtime story. It kept Violet occupied and Peggy laughed until her sides hurt.
They made love after putting Violet for a nap in the other bedroom. More quietly and more slowly than usual and Peggy felt some of the urgency slipping away. They no longer had to worry about getting caught in a supply closet or that the call to arms would come at any second. That fact was sinking in.
After lunch, they finally dressed and when outside. At the grocer's, a grey-haired lady told them they made a beautiful family. Peggy blushed furiously, but she didn’t bother to correct the woman.
Too quickly, it was time to return to the office and bring Violet to her mother.
They got a lot of funny looks from the rest of the S.S.R. when they reached the office. Steve alone could cause a scene and here they were strolled in at nearly the end of the day with a baby. So few people had been around the night before.
"I will be sad to see her go," said Peggy as settled all of Violet’s things at her desk.
"Me too," said Steve. Violet was back in his arms. "Let’s tell Mrs. Healy she can stay another night."
"Not that sad," Peggy said with a laugh. "We can't keep her."
"Why not?"
"Because she belongs with her parents."
"Oh right, her parents."
She shook her head.
"I’ll let Mrs. Healy know if she ever needs a babysitter again, she should call us," he said.
Peggy didn’t think she would mind that at all.
Steve entertained Violet while Peggy pretended to do at least a little work for the day. From her desk, she had a clear view of the door to the phone bank and in reality, she was glancing at his every few seconds.
Finally, it opened and Marybeth came tumbling through with Thompson a few paces behind.
“Look, Violet,” said Peggy, more to Steve than to the baby. “Look who’s here.”
Steve turned and Marybeth could see her daughter. Violet wriggled in her mother’s direction and Marybeth made a beeline for her. She took Violet out of Steve’s arms without any greeting. Not that Peggy blamed her; she was misty at the reunion.
“Safe and sound and where she belongs,” Peggy said.
She wanted to take Steve’s hand but resisted.
“Goodness, I missed her,” Marybeth said in a choked voice. Peggy almost reached for her handkerchief again.
“She missed you too,” Peggy said. “But we fared well enough.”
Marybeth sighed with relief.
“She’s quite the charmer,” said Steve. “Any time you need a babysitter.”
Thompson joined them.
“Well, well, well,” he said. “Looks like everyone survived the night. I’ll be honest—I had my doubts.”
Marybeth looked horrified.
“He’s being an ass,” Peggy said quickly. “Jack, don’t be an ass.”
He laughed at himself. “All in jest, Mrs. Healy.”
Peggy rolled her eyes at him. He winked. She tried not to hit him.
“How were the interviews?”
“Fine,” said Marybeth.
“She was very helpful,” said Thompson in a rare moment of praise. Peggy had never heard something so complimentary directed at her before.
There was a little more polite conversation, but everyone was ready to go home, even Peggy and Steve who had only just got to the office.
Peggy saw Marybeth out when they shook off Thompson—mainly because of Steve’s willingness to stay behind and get lectured about his overdue paperwork. Peggy and Marybeth walked out to the hire car after he had said goodbye.
Marybeth didn’t look like she would ever let Violet go again.
“Thanks again,” said Peggy. “I know this has been a long and difficult process. I’m sure you’d like to put it all behind you.”
“Soon enough. Once my family is back together,” Marybeth said.
Peggy brushed Violet’s thin hair away from her forehead. “You take care of your mum, you hear?” Violet smiled at Peggy and it pulled at her heart.
“Thank you for taking such good care of us—of all the Healys.”
“Part of the job. Though, Violet makes it easy. She’s very special.” Peggy would never put into words what an important catalyst Violet had been.
“We’ll visit soon.”
“Please do.”
Peggy helped get them both in the car and then stepped back onto the curb.
Steve appeared beside her. She took his hand. They waved together as the car pulled into the flow of traffic.
“What about this weekend?” she said casually before the car had even disappeared from view. “I'm sure Angie or one of her cousins has a white dress I can borrow.”
There was a pause as he processed what she had said. He frowned and gave her a sideways glance from his towering height. She quirked an eyebrow and fought back her smile.
“Well?” she said.
It finally sunk in. He lunged for her and she dashed out of his reach. He caught her by the hips and pulled her in close, spinning her so he could kiss her, too lost in each other to care whether anyone else saw.