❰ steve's kept up with peggy a little since their reunion after orientation — some texts, a brief phone call or two — but for the most part he's kept his distance from her. not out of any hurt feelings or anger or anything, it's just — it's a little awkward, right? showing up, kissing her, only to remember that she's not really his to kiss and... sort of never was. it just feels like a situation that needs a little time, a little space, before they can be in a room together again. only a little, though. he's already feeling like that little bit is up.
steve is in his shared apartment downside sketching when he hears a knock on the door and frowns — no one he knows comes to visit him here, he's always coming to them upside. he grabs the shield from where he keeps it leaned against the wall, goes to open the door only enough he can see out —
and blinks. ❱
Peggy?
❰ the door falls further open, steve's arm going slack as he begins to smile. ❱
[ it's easier (these days) to walk taller. not as a defense mechanism, not as an early warning system, but as a confidence both genuine and earned. and it very nearly survives the sight of steve opening his door and smiling at her like that.
lord almighty.
peggy clears her throat she is (after all) a woman here on a mission. she puts the flat of her palm against the open door and takes a bold step forward. she wants inside.
but first she nods at the shield in his hs loose arm. ]
...Expecting someone else?
[ perhaps it's not fair, tracking down his quarters like this. noticing his movements. guessing at his address. but she does it as naturally as she breathes. it seemed easier than reaching out and asking him. ]
❰ peggy steps forward and steve steps to the side immediately, giving her free access to the room. it's no better or worse than any of the other submissive housing, two beds pushed against opposite walls and one ratty little bathroom, and there's very little personalization to indicate which side of the room is steve's and which is his roommate's. the only indicator, in fact, is the sketchpad on the left bed, open to an in-progress sketch of the room. he's been trying to get back in the habit, but he's rusty.
steve closes the door behind the two of them and props the shield back up on the wall, huffing a small laugh. ❱
Not expecting anyone, actually, ❰ which is always more worrisome when someone knocks on your door. even if he'd been expecting trouble, at least he'd have known it was coming. but peggy is not trouble, and steve smiles as he steps around her. ❱ If I'd known you planned on coming over I'd have...
❰ made tea? with the kettle he doesn't own in the apartment with no kitchen? yeah, okay. ❱
[ she notices the sketchbook straight away. her attention slides over it -- brief, absorbing, but unlikely to linger. what use is there in drawing attention to distractions? were they anywhere else (anywhere not an assigned shared billet) these moments and conversational beats would have been equally as awkward.
or so she imagines. ]
Funny, isn't it. [ she huffs a breath. ] To be only floors away after so long.
[ it's a sentimental comment. she regrets it the moment it's made. clearing her throat, she turns 'round from the interior of the room to face him. her hands smooth over the good quality fabric of her pencil skirt. she's well-dressed; somehow (by the grace of some other person, perhaps) she's managed to acquire new clothing. ]
Steve. I need your help.
[ it's not an easy confession and (clumsily) she doesn't realize how it might give him the wrong impression. ]
❰ peggy notices the sketchbook, steve notices her clothing — they both have dominants willing to foot the bill for their respective needs. it's not fair to be curious, but steve still finds himself wondering who this person could be — he hadn't known peggy knew anyone here save himself, bucky, and howard, and he and howard were both submissives. bucky would have mentioned if he was providing for peggy.
are they contracted? she's not living with them, whoever it is, she's still just a few floors away from steve.
it doesn't matter. steve smiles, nods, goes to the bed to put away the sketchpad —
and turns around immediately, concern practically radiating off of him. if peggy is willing to ask for help it's bad, she's practical but fiercely independent and would only ask if she were stuck in a corner with no other options. ❱
[ anything, steve vows. and peggy feels the bottom of her heart sink that much lower. she's about to make a liar out of him -- and it's not fair or right or good but it's what she needs.
because she doesn't know what else to do with them, she perches her hands loose on her hips. there's nothing easy about this explanation. ]
Best not to agree until you've heard what I intend to ask of you. [ a wry warning. she turns her head and follows his movements. she chooses her words carefully. ]
This isn't the first time I've been torn from home and trapped somewhere.
❰ best not to agree, as though she could ask anything he wouldn't give. steve doesn't even dignify that comment with a response, just sits down on his bed and pats the mattress next to him — come sit down, peggy. he's not really expecting her to — she hates sitting when she's feeling vulnerable as much as he does, and asking for help is never easy for either of them. ❱
You've been through this before?
❰ well, that's not really where steve expected this to go. he frowns in confusion, tries to figure out what that could mean, then decides he doesn't have enough information and abandons the effort. ❱
[ a soft hum. a small nod. peggy will do her best to deliver this intel in a succinct and orderly fashion. there are old wounds and sore points to be uncovered (absolutely) -- but she knows that outside of her fellow wonderlander in the up, steve is her best port of call for an ally in this.
and she wasn't lying when she said she'd need his help. ]
It was '47 when I was first taken from back home. But -- Steve, that was over a year and a half ago. Between home and here I spent considerable time in a different sort of pocket dimension. And, like here, people were brought in from all manner of worlds and times.
[ he's right. she does refuse his wordless invitation to take seat -- choosing instead to pace a few steps in the few feet in front of his bed.
quietly, achingly: ] There are things about the future I already know. If you're withholding them from me out of kindness -- then I may as well admit I've probably already learned them.
[ he's smart. he'll connect the dots: in this other place, she'd already met people from her future. so much has been revealed. ]
❰ '47. not too long after he'd fallen, then, not even close to when she'd married her husband. if it's not him who's around paying for her pretty skirts, who is?
she answers that question with her next sentence. someone else from this pocket dimension she was brought from, most likely.
none of that is important. what's important is what she is telling him, not what she isn't — there are things he'd never intended to pass on to her that she already knows, people he'd thought about introducing who she's already met. there are hundreds of possible events and people peggy could be thinking of, but steve's first thought, as always, turns to bucky.
quietly, achingly: ❱ We should have looked for him.
❰ after the train, before the assault on schmidt's fortress — they should have looked, instead of giving bucky up for dead. it's an argument he's had with bucky multiple times here already, but no one else could possibly understand the magnitude of the guilt that lives inside him now — no one but peggy.
but she needed help from him, and steve has worried at this problem long enough. he takes a deep breath, shakes his head, and banishes all thoughts of guilt for another day. ❱
[ she shouldn't be so surprised that his instincts would tick (again) towards barnes. but it doesn't change how his line makes her mouth go dry and every last nerve seems to constrict with a cocktail of frustration and regret. it's not his fault. it's not his fault. this him, this version of him, wasn't the one who split her heart in two.
but perhaps it's telling how she doesn't rise to meet steve in his moment of confession. funny, really, how she can offer up a wellspring of carefully articulated sympathy for barnes himself but she can't bring herself to discuss the subject here and now.
so it's a blessing that he reins the conversation back to that first painful admission: she needs his help. ]
I'd prefer not to explain these circumstances to anyone and everyone. People tend not to like hearing they've been met before but simply don't remember it. [ bad enough that she's imply as much to steve -- but it's a burden she's calculated that he can bear. ] It would be helpful if I could explain away any future knowledge -- any recognition of Avengers or SHIELD agents -- by letting people believe you told me.
[ the words come so easily to her. too easily. although she rushes past them in a bid to secure his cooperation -- an almost hopeful look stealing over her face. ]
❰ what is it they always say about duplicity? solace is found in the lies we tell each other. yes, steve would become a liar for peggy. he'd do worse for her, if she asked, but this is a small thing. it will spare others the awkwardness he feels now, wondering what versions of him she's met, how many times they'd had a reunion like the one after orientation. no one else needs to deal with this, and peggy should be able to forge new relationships. a little lying now will help more than it hurts.
it still doesn't feel good, to lean into duplicity's motto quite so hard. ❱
Yeah, of course. That's — that's easy, Peggy, that's fine. I thought I was going to have to help you hide a body, ❰ he says, smiling, even if he doesn't quite feel it and he knows peggy carter is perfectly capable of dealing with her own bodies. ❱
[ except it very much is. in a bid to isolate him from the greyer aspects of her business, peggy already knows a call like that one would land somewhere else first. not that she would dare tell steve as much.
he says it's easy. she almost wants to warn him of the scope of what she knows. the nitty-gritties. about the hydra uprising, about the parts of shield that survived, about her own death. although... ]
You ought to tell me what year it last was. For you. [ she turns on a heel; she gestures with a hand. ] I've no intention of inadvertently telling you something you yourself shouldn't know.
[ her confidence is smooth and cemented: peggy carter treats it like a matter of fact that she might very well know more about the 21st century than he does. ]
It was 2014, ❰ he says, though now he's frowning. that peggy wouldn't tell him about his own future is... not necessarily surprising, but considering what they're talking about it does seem rather unfair. she's allowed to know things she shouldn't, but he isn't?
that begs the question: what's so terrible about his own future she'd refuse to tell him? ❱
I'd... Project Insight was thwarted. That's the last thing I remember from home.
❰ he hadn't missed the way she neatly avoided commenting on bucky. bringing him up again, rehashing the fight on the helicarrier — it's pointless, and apparently not something peggy wants to hear about. fair enough; he'll keep it succinct. ❱
[ 2014. there's a moment -- just a moment -- as she does the math. rather than let her breath catch, peggy presses her (red, well-lipstick'd) mouth into a stern line. hydra's only just dragged its fetid tentacles into the light of day. the avengers are still a cohesive unit.
...peggy wonders whether she's still alive. her funeral was always one of the few details she'd almost willingly avoided pinning to a particular date. ]
I've learned details from as far forward as 2018.
[ and steve's not wrong. it's all terribly unfair. but she's walked this gauntlet before him -- experiencing the pain that might accompany learning things out of order -- and every time it happens, now, she finds herself that little bit more understanding of rip hunter's inclination towards chronological stewardship. to that end: ]
But it can be dangerous to know too much about one's own future. Lord knows I have enough experience to testify to that effect some ten times over.
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«« action, pre-tumenalia, what is time
steve is in his shared apartment downside sketching when he hears a knock on the door and frowns — no one he knows comes to visit him here, he's always coming to them upside. he grabs the shield from where he keeps it leaned against the wall, goes to open the door only enough he can see out —
and blinks. ❱
Peggy?
❰ the door falls further open, steve's arm going slack as he begins to smile. ❱
no subject
lord almighty.
peggy clears her throat she is (after all) a woman here on a mission. she puts the flat of her palm against the open door and takes a bold step forward. she wants inside.
but first she nods at the shield in his hs loose arm. ]
...Expecting someone else?
[ perhaps it's not fair, tracking down his quarters like this. noticing his movements. guessing at his address. but she does it as naturally as she breathes. it seemed easier than reaching out and asking him. ]
no subject
steve closes the door behind the two of them and props the shield back up on the wall, huffing a small laugh. ❱
Not expecting anyone, actually, ❰ which is always more worrisome when someone knocks on your door. even if he'd been expecting trouble, at least he'd have known it was coming. but peggy is not trouble, and steve smiles as he steps around her. ❱ If I'd known you planned on coming over I'd have...
❰ made tea? with the kettle he doesn't own in the apartment with no kitchen? yeah, okay. ❱
Anyway. Hi, Peg.
no subject
or so she imagines. ]
Funny, isn't it. [ she huffs a breath. ] To be only floors away after so long.
[ it's a sentimental comment. she regrets it the moment it's made. clearing her throat, she turns 'round from the interior of the room to face him. her hands smooth over the good quality fabric of her pencil skirt. she's well-dressed; somehow (by the grace of some other person, perhaps) she's managed to acquire new clothing. ]
Steve. I need your help.
[ it's not an easy confession and (clumsily) she doesn't realize how it might give him the wrong impression. ]
no subject
are they contracted? she's not living with them, whoever it is, she's still just a few floors away from steve.
it doesn't matter. steve smiles, nods, goes to the bed to put away the sketchpad —
and turns around immediately, concern practically radiating off of him. if peggy is willing to ask for help it's bad, she's practical but fiercely independent and would only ask if she were stuck in a corner with no other options. ❱
Anything, what is it?
no subject
because she doesn't know what else to do with them, she perches her hands loose on her hips. there's nothing easy about this explanation. ]
Best not to agree until you've heard what I intend to ask of you. [ a wry warning. she turns her head and follows his movements. she chooses her words carefully. ]
This isn't the first time I've been torn from home and trapped somewhere.
no subject
You've been through this before?
❰ well, that's not really where steve expected this to go. he frowns in confusion, tries to figure out what that could mean, then decides he doesn't have enough information and abandons the effort. ❱
What happened?
no subject
and she wasn't lying when she said she'd need his help. ]
It was '47 when I was first taken from back home. But -- Steve, that was over a year and a half ago. Between home and here I spent considerable time in a different sort of pocket dimension. And, like here, people were brought in from all manner of worlds and times.
[ he's right. she does refuse his wordless invitation to take seat -- choosing instead to pace a few steps in the few feet in front of his bed.
quietly, achingly: ] There are things about the future I already know. If you're withholding them from me out of kindness -- then I may as well admit I've probably already learned them.
[ he's smart. he'll connect the dots: in this other place, she'd already met people from her future. so much has been revealed. ]
no subject
she answers that question with her next sentence. someone else from this pocket dimension she was brought from, most likely.
none of that is important. what's important is what she is telling him, not what she isn't — there are things he'd never intended to pass on to her that she already knows, people he'd thought about introducing who she's already met. there are hundreds of possible events and people peggy could be thinking of, but steve's first thought, as always, turns to bucky.
quietly, achingly: ❱ We should have looked for him.
❰ after the train, before the assault on schmidt's fortress — they should have looked, instead of giving bucky up for dead. it's an argument he's had with bucky multiple times here already, but no one else could possibly understand the magnitude of the guilt that lives inside him now — no one but peggy.
but she needed help from him, and steve has worried at this problem long enough. he takes a deep breath, shakes his head, and banishes all thoughts of guilt for another day. ❱
What do you need from me?
no subject
but perhaps it's telling how she doesn't rise to meet steve in his moment of confession. funny, really, how she can offer up a wellspring of carefully articulated sympathy for barnes himself but she can't bring herself to discuss the subject here and now.
so it's a blessing that he reins the conversation back to that first painful admission: she needs his help. ]
I'd prefer not to explain these circumstances to anyone and everyone. People tend not to like hearing they've been met before but simply don't remember it. [ bad enough that she's imply as much to steve -- but it's a burden she's calculated that he can bear. ] It would be helpful if I could explain away any future knowledge -- any recognition of Avengers or SHIELD agents -- by letting people believe you told me.
[ the words come so easily to her. too easily. although she rushes past them in a bid to secure his cooperation -- an almost hopeful look stealing over her face. ]
no subject
it still doesn't feel good, to lean into duplicity's motto quite so hard. ❱
Yeah, of course. That's — that's easy, Peggy, that's fine. I thought I was going to have to help you hide a body, ❰ he says, smiling, even if he doesn't quite feel it and he knows peggy carter is perfectly capable of dealing with her own bodies. ❱
no subject
[ except it very much is. in a bid to isolate him from the greyer aspects of her business, peggy already knows a call like that one would land somewhere else first. not that she would dare tell steve as much.
he says it's easy. she almost wants to warn him of the scope of what she knows. the nitty-gritties. about the hydra uprising, about the parts of shield that survived, about her own death. although... ]
You ought to tell me what year it last was. For you. [ she turns on a heel; she gestures with a hand. ] I've no intention of inadvertently telling you something you yourself shouldn't know.
[ her confidence is smooth and cemented: peggy carter treats it like a matter of fact that she might very well know more about the 21st century than he does. ]
no subject
that begs the question: what's so terrible about his own future she'd refuse to tell him? ❱
I'd... Project Insight was thwarted. That's the last thing I remember from home.
❰ he hadn't missed the way she neatly avoided commenting on bucky. bringing him up again, rehashing the fight on the helicarrier — it's pointless, and apparently not something peggy wants to hear about. fair enough; he'll keep it succinct. ❱
What's the furthest forward you're aware of?
no subject
...peggy wonders whether she's still alive. her funeral was always one of the few details she'd almost willingly avoided pinning to a particular date. ]
I've learned details from as far forward as 2018.
[ and steve's not wrong. it's all terribly unfair. but she's walked this gauntlet before him -- experiencing the pain that might accompany learning things out of order -- and every time it happens, now, she finds herself that little bit more understanding of rip hunter's inclination towards chronological stewardship. to that end: ]
But it can be dangerous to know too much about one's own future. Lord knows I have enough experience to testify to that effect some ten times over.