Chapter Text
Dating is… complicated.
At least, it feels that way for Steve anyways.
And that isn’t just because talking to dames is difficult, or because he isn’t really sure if girls even like him. It doesn’t really have a lot to do with his size, or his constant illnesses, or the fact that more often than not he is more worried about making rent, than taking a girl out (although those all probably have something to do with it.)
It is just… he just doesn’t seem to feel it the same way others seem to.
For the most part, he is content with that. Dating is complicated, and messy, and to be honest, it seems like a hassle to him. In school, when the boys and girls had gotten old enough to start noticing each other, and the halls and the corners of classrooms had been full of whispers about who had stepped out with whom, he couldn’t help feeling bemused by it all.
What was the point of stepping out on a few dates here and there with someone if you knew you weren’t really going to keep at it? They were all too young to be really thinking of marriage anyways, and even when they had started to reach that threshold, it had all seemed a little far away to him.
Not that he is against dating. Bucky steps out with dames all the time, and he seems to enjoy it, and Steve doesn’t begrudge him for it. But he doesn’t exactly feel inclined to participate. He goes along with it when Bucky proposes double-dates, and he will admit that he does enjoy going out…
But he is also glad that, for the most part, the girls he gets paired with don’t really seem to be expecting anything beyond a courteous partner for the evening. Once, at the end of a date, the girl he had been with, Molly, had inclined her cheek in his direction for a chaste goodnight kiss. It had taken him a second to figure out exactly what she had been doing, and after that his cheeks had flamed red while he had obliged.
Bucky had teased him about it afterwards, and Steve hadn't had the words to explain that it wasn’t exactly the kissing he minded, it was just… well, he hadn't felt like kissing her. It feels strange to him that people seem to want to kiss each other almost automatically. The thought of kissing someone after a first date – or even after a few dates – it makes his skin crawl.
But that isn’t to say that he doesn’t want to kiss people. Eventually. He thinks he wouldn’t mind it, if it were the right person, and if he knew them well enough. But why that is part of the criteria, he doesn’t know. The night after the date, he stares up at the ceiling and tries to make sense of what he is feeling. He doesn’t understand it, and from the way everyone else around him goes on about dating, and courtship, and looks… it feels like maybe… maybe what he is feeling isn’t… normal.
“Maybe you just don’t like brunettes,” Bucky tells him at breakfast the next morning, and Steve shakes his head. That isn’t it.
“I don’t know what I like,” he says, because it is true. Everyone seems to have this idea of their ‘perfect partner’, things like blue eyes, or long legs, or blonde hair, but… he doesn’t get that. How can people know if they will like someone just by looking at them?
At work, he will often hear the guys chatting and sharing opinions about that sort of thing. And sometimes, if a dame they deem attractive walks by, one of them will whistle or shout after her. Steve doesn’t really get that either. He supposes he can appreciate on some level that someone could be attractive at first glance, but it honestly doesn’t occur to him most of the time to think that way.
Do people really think like that, all the time?
“How do you know if you like someone?” he had asked Bucky once, while the man had been getting ready for a night out to the movies. Bucky had glanced up from where he was tying his tie in the tiny mirror above the basin on the dresser, and he had shrugged.
“I don’t know,” he had said, going back to watching himself in the mirror. “You just look at someone, and ya think thatcha wouldn’t mind getting to know them a little better. The askin’ part is the hard part Stevie, but if they say yes than you’re golden.”
He had frowned slightly at that, because it didn’t feel to him like the asking part was the problem here. Sure, he didn’t really do that either, but mostly because he didn’t feel like it. He isn’t against dating, or stepping out but… but so far, he hasn’t really met anyone that he wants to do that with.
I’ll find someone eventually, he decides after a while, and then he tries not to think about it too hard.
When he enters college, and starts taking his art classes, he meets a girl that makes him wonder if maybe this whole business of liking people isn’t so strange after all. He isn’t exactly sure what draws him to Elizabeth, but they end up partnering for most of the first term. She is smart, and dedicated, and he finds it easy to talk to her, the two of them collaborating on most of their projects as they try to learn new skills and keep up in class.
Elizabeth seems to like him too, and a few weeks into the class, he can’t help noticing that when she smiles at him, he smiles back almost instantly. He even mentions her a few times to Bucky, and he seems pleased for him.
“You should invite her out, next time we go dancing,” he says over supper. “She seems nice, and she’s probably wonderin’ why you haven’t made a move yet.”
That makes Steve think. Is she really waiting for that sort of thing? It is hard for him to tell. He doesn’t think he is flirting with her, but he has already come to terms a long time ago with the fact that he couldn’t recognise flirting if it hit him upside the head.
Does he want to go out with Elizabeth? He will admit that the idea seems pleasant. She is probably the first dame he had gotten to know where the idea of asking her out had even seemed feasible, and he will admit that the thought of getting to know her better seems like a nice one.
He isn’t sure yet, if this is what it feels like to like a person, but maybe it is. He can’t help feeling some relief at the thought that he can feel those things, just like everybody else. There had been times when he had wondered if maybe… with how sick he was, maybe… maybe that was just another thing wrong with him. Something that had gotten messed up along with the hearing in his right ear when he had gotten scarlet fever that one summer.
But, maybe he does like Elizabeth. And… maybe she likes him too.
Now he understands what Bucky means about the asking part, because once the idea is in his head, he can’t help thinking about it when he sees Elizabeth. If he asks her, will that upset things? He has a pretty good friendship with Elizabeth now, and if asking her to go dancing will ruin that, then he doesn’t want to risk it.
His old insecurities crop up one at a time. Would Elizabeth really want to go out with someone like him? He isn’t exactly the ‘ideal partner’ for most dames, and he doesn’t have a lot of experience either. What if she wants to kiss at the end?
He swallows when he thinks about it. He supposes he wouldn’t mind kissing Elizabeth as much as he would another girl but… well. If he did kiss her, he wouldn’t want to go much beyond that. She would probably understand that, right?
But… what if she doesn’t?
From what he can tell, guys aren’t supposed to be hesitant about this sort of thing. What if she gets offended that he doesn’t want to kiss her right away? What if she kisses him before he can say anything? What is he supposed to do then?
The uncertainty around that makes him hesitate. He knows somehow, that whatever it is that is growing between him and Elizabeth will die if he pushes himself – or gets pushed – too quickly. He doesn’t want that, because he does like Elizabeth, and… in the end, he doesn’t have to make his decision.
Instead, the war looming in Europe breaks out, and Elizabeth informs him sadly that she is moving away, her father’s ties with the military uprooting the family for the time being. He feels sad seeing Elizabeth go, but when Bucky asks him half-jokingly if he is heartbroken, he doesn’t know how to respond.
He will miss Elizabeth, and part of him wishes that he had asked her out at least once… But, at the same time, he can feel that whatever it was that had been blossoming between them is beginning to settle down. It is almost as if, since it hadn't quite had the chance to sprout yet, it isn’t too much of a tragedy when it dies.
He is a little distracted away from that sort of thing anyways, because the war in Europe creeps closer and closer, and soon he finds the States entering as well. He drops out of art school at that point, and Bucky gets his enlistment papers a year later, and after that, thinking about girls isn't really a priority.
oOo
He hadn't realised it until afterwards, but a part of him had sort of expected the serum to kick start whatever part of him it was that didn’t seem to be with the program. It had been on his mind going into the operation. He had had slow growing feelings for Peggy for some time, but he still hadn't really been sure if what he was feeling was the same as what everyone else felt for this sort of thing.
He thinks he likes Peggy, but not yet in the all-consuming burning kind of way that he has read about, and when he opens his eyes after the serum, things feel about the same.
Of course, he is a little distracted at the time, what with a sudden new onslaught of colours, and sounds, and height— and then Erskine’s death and the frantic chase afterwards on legs that are suddenly much longer than they used to be.
Still, afterwards, once he settles down and they start trying to figure out what the serum had done to him, he concludes that it hadn't changed up his feelings towards Peggy at all. It is a bit of a relief actually, because then that means that that isn’t something that needs to be fixed. The serum had been supposed to fix everything, and it hadn't touched this, so…
So it must be alright then, right?
It is still confusing.
While he may have been growing to like Peggy, and while he may suspect that she feels similarly, he doesn’t really see her often enough to really figure out what he is feeling. Peggy is busy with the SSR, and he is busy with the USO.
The showgirls there at least confirm to him that what he feels for Peggy – whatever it is – is different than what he feels for any other girl. For the most part they leave him alone, which is a relief. But, he can tell that now, unlike before the serum, a lot of the girls around him actually seem to notice him.
It is more uncomfortable than he would like. He still doesn’t understand how or why someone could just look at him, and decide that they like him, and he doesn’t know how he is expected to know if he likes them back after just a few sentences of conversation.
Do people really just decide these sorts of things on looks? He knows that the whole dating process is supposed to help people get to know each other and see if they are compatible, but how can people decide if they want to step out together so quickly? Even for only one night of fun?
It all feels rather baffling to him, and he mostly focuses on studying up for the army in between his shows. Captain America might be a showtune, but if he is going to be a Captain, then he is going to earn it.
His studies end up paying off once he gets shipped off to perform at the front. He had known before it had even started that it was probably a poor choice on behalf of the organisers. He knows that shows are common on the front, to help keep up morale, but it feels… wrong of him, to stand up and talk about defeating Hitler to these men, when he himself has yet to fight at all.
He soon earns his stripes though, because it turns out that the unit he had been stationed with had been Bucky’s unit. And Bucky had been reported dead. The news hits him like a punch to the gut, and he can’t sit idle after he learns that there will be no rescue attempt for the remaining prisoners.
He doesn’t know if Bucky is alive. He doesn’t. But, he has to try, and if Bucky isn’t alive then well — at least he can finally put the serum to good use and save the other prisoners.
Peggy is there at the encampment, and she knows immediately what he is planning. It is against regulations, but she doesn’t try to stop him. Instead, she sets him up with Howard to fly them into enemy territory.
“You know, you two are gonna be in a lot of trouble at the lab,” he shouts over the sound of the roaring engine as Howard flies them through the night sky.
“And you won’t?” Peggy says, her eyes flicking over him with what he thinks might be concern, or at least, thoughtfulness. He isn’t really thinking of whatever may or may not be between them though, his mind mostly focused on his upcoming mission. But Howard speaks up and the topic jumps to the forefront of his brain.
“Agent Carter,” he hears him call as he gets ready to pull on his parachute. “If we’re not in too much of a hurry I thought we could stop off in Lucerne for a late night fondue.”
Peggy’s eyes dart to him again, and he flicks his eyes between the two of them, trying to read the situation. He hadn't thought anything of it, but with the way Peggy is acting… is fondue some kind of term? He is always so bad at catching those. Why can’t people just say what they mean?
“Stark is the best civilian pilot I’ve ever seen,” Peggy says, as though trying to cover for what Howard had said. “He’s mad enough to brave this airspace, we’re lucky to have him.”
He nods a little at that, still feeling off-balance by the unexpected confusion. “So are you two…?” He flicks his eyes up to the pilot seat and back. “Do you…? Fondue?”
Peggy seems to decide to ignore his awkward question, and he doesn’t know how to feel as she hands him his transponder. He isn’t really… that upset that Peggy and Howard might be… fondueing. There hadn't really been anything between him and Peggy anyways. He had sort of thought that maybe there could be something, but at the same time, it isn’t devastating to him that there might not be.
It just confuses him because he had thought that he had been reading Peggy correctly, and he will admit that he hadn't been opposed to the idea of letting something grow there. But if he had been reading Peggy all wrong then—
He gives his head a shake and puts away the problem for now. He has more important things to focus on.
oOo
The rescue mission is, thankfully, a success. Bucky is blessedly alive, and Command had been pacified enough by the return of a few hundred prisoners and the resulting skyrocketing morale to let the ‘unsanctioned’ part of his mission slide.
After the rescue he doesn’t really have a lot of time or inclination to think about his confusion over Peggy. He sees her again after the rescue, and the way she stares at him… Bucky says that they were making eyes at each other, and he probably isn’t wrong. He still doesn’t know exactly what had been happening – if anything – between her and Howard, but that night in the bar, he decides that, after the war, once this is all over, he… probably wouldn't mind going out dancing with Peggy.
(He thinks she wouldn’t mind dancing with him either.)
Right now it seems like a little too much though, what with the war and Hydra, so he is mostly content to let it sit as a pleasant thought in his head while he works through the kinks of actually getting sanctioned by the army, and building his own team (with the people he wants on it, which seems to be ruffling some feathers.)
The momentum of Captain America helps him a little though, and he soon finds himself trying to organise the supplies and equipment he will need for missions. He walks through the main office dressed in his dress uniform, his eyes flicking over the desks and cabinets as he searches for Howard.
“Excuse me,” he says to one of the secretaries who works with Colonel Philips, and he recognises her to be Private Lorraine. “I’m looking for Mr. Stark.”
Lorraine is busy reading a paper with the headline proclaiming his successful rescue mission, and she doesn’t look up as she replies back flatly. “He’s with Colonel Philips.”
He stops uncertainly, standing at attention as he glances towards the door off to the side and wonders how long he should expect the meeting to go. Peggy had said he needed to meet with Howard and discuss some things, but maybe it would be better to come back later—
Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Lorraine look up and give a double take as she recognises him. A lot of people are doing that now – even more than after he had gotten the serum – and her disposition changes to a more friendly one as she relaxes her shoulders and folds the newspaper down, smiling at him. “Of course, you’re welcome to wait,” she says, in a warmer tone.
He nods amiably at that, relaxing slightly as he spies a desk across from her. He goes over to perch on the edge, glad at least that he has somewhere to wait for Howard’s meeting to finish. Lorraine seems much more interested in him than she had first been, and she spins in her chair as he sits down, holding up the paper for him to see.
“I read about what you did,” she says, and he can’t quite place her tone, something in her eyes making him feel like they are having a different conversation than he thinks.
“Oh! The…yeah!” he says, still trying to get used to everyone knowing what he had done and the explosion of Captain America as a true war hero. He hadn't done it for that, he hadn't even thought of the press at the time, but the propaganda machine is just eating it up right now. “Well, that’s you know? Just doin’ what needed to be done,” he continues, his eyes flicking down as he glances towards Colonel Philips’ door.
“Sounded like more than that,” Lorraine says, calling his attention back to her, the same low tone to her voice as she puts the newspaper away and leans an elbow back on her desk. “You saved nearly four hundred men.”
He swallows and presses his lips up into a small smile, his hands clenching from where they are clasped in front of him. Lorraine stares back at him, and a kernel of discomfort grows in his stomach. “Really,” he says, waving a hand, unable to quite meet her gaze. “It’s not a big deal.”
That doesn’t end the conversation though, because now she is standing up, and oh, he definitely knows the look in her eyes now. It is sharp and purposeful as she comes towards him, her hips swaying. She knows exactly what she wants, and he is pretty sure he knows too.
He isn’t used to this sort of thing. Before the serum most girls didn’t notice him. He hasn’t had to deal with this much — and he is suddenly aware that he had not minded that at all.
“Tell that to their wives,” she says in a tone that is probably supposed to be enticing.
It makes his heart pound, although probably not in the way she expects, and he pulls back, his shoulders hunching as he folds his arms uncomfortably over his chest and tries to redirect the conversation. “Uh…” he manages, the nerves in his voice making it higher than usual. “I don’t think they were all married.”
Lorraine doesn’t react to that statement, and she is suddenly so close that he can see the individual strands of her hair as she leans in. The light from above glints off of the golden strands, and he finds himself looking at that, rather then her eyes as she stares up at him.
“You’re a hero,” she says softly, and she is too close. He feels trapped against the table, but he can’t seem to move. He could try to get up and slink away, but he is supposed to be waiting for Howard— and also, he doesn’t know how to react to this. He has never had to deal with this, and Lorraine probably expects him to react how guys normally would but—
He breathes in shakily as her hands come up to fiddle with the buttons of his suit, and he can’t figure out what to do with his own hands. “Well, that…you know?” His hands flutter nervously as he scratches at his forehead and Lorraine tugs at his tie, pulling it out from his shirt. “That…that depends on the definition of it really.”
He can feel his heartbeat fast and loud in his mouth as she touches him. He can’t get out now without pushing her off of him, and he could do that, he is strong enough now, but— but somehow it feels like that isn’t allowed and he doesn’t know what to do—
“The women of America, they owe you their thanks,” Lorraine says, her eyes intent as he stares down at her, frozen in stunned indecision. He feels like an animal, caught and afraid in the rifle’s sight, and his heart continues to pound fast and helpless in his chest. The rest of his body seems far away as she tugs him up by his tie, his throat feeling tight and swollen around the fabric. She pulls, and his stomach flips, his mind mostly blank as he follows her on wooden legs behind the shelving unit by her desk.
Lorraine seems perfectly at ease as she glances behind her and then back up at him. “And uh…seeing as they’re not here…” His heart spasms in his chest, but before he can say anything, she pulls on his tie again, tugging him in as she leans up and kisses him.
His hands come up in shock, and he freezes.
He has never kissed anyone like this before, and he doesn’t know what he expected it to feel like, but this… This is not the way he wanted it. Lorraine’s lips press against his, and he doesn’t know why people seem so obsessed with this sort of thing. Her mouth is foreign and strange on his, and his nose – enhanced by the serum – feels practically overwhelmed by her perfume, and the scent of soap in her hair.
He would pull back, except he can’t seem to move. Even his breathing feels frozen, and he can’t seem to get his hands to move to push Lorraine away, because he doesn’t want to touch her more than he has to— except she is pressing against him, and he can feel her arms shift and move to wrap around his neck, and he feels a flare of panic because how far is he supposed to expect this to go—?
“Captain!”
The sharp voice breaks through everything, and he pulls away abruptly, his mind spinning as he stumbles away from Lorraine and brings a hand up to wipe at his mouth. He looks up, and Peggy is standing there by the shelves, her hands on her hips and an intense look in her eyes.
“We’re ready for you,” she bites out. “If you’re not otherwise occupied.” His stomach drops as she turns away, anger evident in her step.
“Agent Carter, wait!” he calls, all thoughts of Lorraine gone from his head as he stumbles after Peggy.
Peggy is angry with him though, and he doesn’t know how to explain what had just happened. His thoughts are already scrambled and frayed thanks to everything, and he can’t help the spark of anger that mixes in with his embarrassment and confusion as she snaps at him.
“Well, what about you and Stark?” he gets out as they near the lab. “How do I know you two haven’t been… fondueing?”
He thinks it is a fair question, because technically, he and Peggy aren’t even together yet. They hadn't even talked about it yet except through some heavily implied metaphors. He may not have wanted to kiss Lorraine, but it isn’t fair that Peggy is mad at him either — especially since he doesn’t even know if something is happening between her and Stark.
Apparently something isn’t happening between her and Stark though, and his words just make her despair in him. “You still don’t know a bloody thing about women,” she says as she turns away, and he swallows uneasily as he follows her into Howard’s lab.
She isn’t wrong, and his stomach churns unhappily as he rubs his hand over his mouth again, trying to chase away the feel of Lorraine’s lips. Why is everything so complicated?
He gets to the lab, and Howard isn’t exactly very helpful in explaining anything about women, but he does show him a whole array of shield options for him to choose from. He picks up a round, silver looking one, and Howard tells him it is made of vibranium, one of the rarest metals on Earth.
Peggy comes in as he is hefting it and testing out its weight. Her voice is sharp and direct as she calls for him, and he winces internally. It is obvious that Peggy is still mad at him, but he doesn’t really know how to repair the situation.
He tries to smile at her as he lifts the shield, hoping to gain some measure of forgiveness by talking to her about something else besides Lorraine. “What do you think?” he asks.
In the blink of an eye, Peggy snatches up the gun from a nearby table, and his ears ring as she fires at him, the shots echoing off the wall as he ducks behind the shield. His heart pounds in his chest and he stands frozen again, the flattened bullets from the gun clinking softly as they land by his feet.
“Yes,” Peggy says simply as she discards the gun and he peaks out from behind the shield. “I think it works.”
oOo
He feels… conflicted over Peggy after that.
He thinks he likes her, but the incident in the lab had seemed to dampen that slightly. Her anger had hurt, and his own anger at her for not understanding, and at himself for not being able to explain – or to stop Lorraine – just makes things worse.
“You have to talk to her,” Bucky had said, once he had finally confided in him, the two of them sitting in their bedrolls and staring up at the canvas of their tent. “If you don’t talk, then this’ll sit between you and fester.”
Steve swallows, because he knows that Bucky is right, and he rolls over and looks at him. “But…” he licks his lips. “But… what do I do after that?” he says, glad that the dark of the night around them hides his embarrassed blush at asking. “What if we do make up?” he looks down and fiddles with his blanket. “Buck, I’m not–” he chews on his lip. “I don’t know if I’m ready to go… dancing.”
He doesn’t know how else to say it, and his stomach twists at the silence that settles between them for a moment. Next to him, Bucky shifts, and Steve’s eyes are enhanced enough that, while he can’t see him well, he can still pick out the shape of his face in the dark.
“You were always one to go slow, Steve,” Bucky says quietly, and Steve can feel his gaze on him as he listens. “If Peggy doesn’t want that then, well…” the fabric of his blanket rustles as he shrugs, and he lets out a breath. “Then I guess she isn’t the one then.”
Steve nods slowly, the knot of unease in his stomach unravelling slightly at that. He still feels nervous about it, but Bucky’s words at least give him something simple to grasp onto. “Yeah, I guess,” he says in reply, turning over to stare up into the darkness as he thinks.
What Bucky says gives him some reassurance, but he can’t help the creeping thought that maybe, it wouldn’t be only Peggy’s fault, if she didn’t want to go as slow as he did. What if he just wants to go too slow?
What if nobody ever wants to wait that long?
He meets Peggy again coming in off of a Hydra raid. It is winter now, and the mud of the base camp is hard and frozen and miserable. The tents and their coats and gloves hardly enough to keep out the chill. Peggy is with Colonel Philip’s when he reports back to him, and after the briefing, he manages to catch his eye, Bucky's words echoing in his mind.
“Can I talk to you?” he manages, and Peggy flicks her eyes over him once, before she nods.
There isn’t much privacy in the camp, and more than one soldier throws him a knowing smile as he follows her out to stand away in the shelter of the trees on the edge of camp. He ignores them though, his mind mostly focused on Peggy as he tries to come up with what he wants to say.
The trees next to the camp help block out some of the bitter wind, and the ground is mostly bare as she stops and turns to face him, her eyes searching.
“Peggy,” he starts, pulling his coat tighter around him as he looks at her. He presses his lips together and breathes in. “Are… are you still mad at me?”
That seems to be the right thing to say, because Peggy’s mouth twitches up, and she ducks her head slightly as she tucks her hair behind her ear. “I suppose not,” she says finally, her eyes coming up to search his. “But I am a little confused.”
Me too, he thinks, and that is when the whole story with Lorraine comes tumbling out in a jumble of words, his hands waving in his gloves as he talks.
“I really didn’t mean to kiss her,” he says fervently. “She kissed me, and I was stuck. And then you came, but you were mad at me and–” he rolls his shoulders and pulls away slightly. “And then I was kinda mad at you too because you shot at me.”
He darts his eyes up to her and he sees her wince, her hands going to the pockets of her wool coat as she breathes out steam into the air. “That was irresponsible of me,” she says finally, her gaze meeting his steadily. “It was dangerous, and I shouldn’t have done it.”
He blinks at her, and she takes a small step closer. She doesn’t have the same look on her face as Lorraine had though, and she doesn’t come as close, so he doesn’t move away, his breath fogging in the air as he looks at her. “I’m sorry,” she says quietly, her eyes sincere as she darts her gaze over him. “I suppose I shouldn’t have made assumptions about your side of the story.”
He lets out a breath and his mouth quirks up, the frozen dirt crunching under his feet as he shifts his stance. “Well,” he says, rolling his shoulders in a shrug. “I made assumptions about you and Howard too.”
Peggy smiles at that, and her eyes glitter as she looks at him. “Well,” she says quietly. “Do you think we should stop making assumptions then?”
He swallows as he looks down at her. “Yes,” he says softly, before dropping his eyes. “But, Peggy–” he can feel her gaze on him, and he looks back up, trying to come up with the words he needs. “I don’t think I’m quite— ready yet,” he manages.
Peggy’s eyes dart over his, and he can tell she doesn’t know what to make of his words. “What do you mean?” she asks, a note of caution entering her voice, and he rushes to explain.
“I like you, Peggy,” he says, because at this point he thinks that is a pretty safe bet. He does like her, but– “But I want to get to know you more, first,” he continues, his eyes on hers as he talks. “With the war, and with the Commandos, we— we don’t have time really, to get to– to dancing.”
Peggy’s eyes are dark brown, and he stares into them as he finishes, waiting to hear what she has to say. He is asking a lot, he knows. He is asking her to wait, basically, like any of the other sweethearts left back at home. But they are both busy, and they both have work to do. If they tried to build something now, he doesn’t think it would last long.
And… and while he likes Peggy, he doesn’t think he is quite ready yet to follow the steps that most courtships do. He thinks he wants to. He doesn’t mind the idea. But he needs more time first. They both need time to figure each other out, and it is hard to do that with the war going on.
Peggy blinks, and she doesn’t look upset. “You’re right,” she says, her eyes bright and calm as she looks up at him. He relaxes slightly at that, and she smiles. “You will owe me a dance at the end of the war though, Captain.”
A smile grows on his face, and he nods. “I’ll be saving it,” he says.
oOo
He feels better after that. There is an understanding between him and Peggy. He imagines it is probably a bit different than what most people usually settle on, but he doesn’t mind that. He and Peggy continue to work together comfortably and things feel easier than they used to be, now that he doesn’t have to worry all the time about what she might be thinking of him.
He goes on missions, and she goes about her own business, and sometimes, when they both manage to get leave at the same time, they just… spend time being together. The Commandos tease him when he comes back from walking with her through the small French village they had stopped in, but Bucky doesn’t do anything but smile, and he finds himself smiling too.
He keeps Peggy’s picture in the lid of his compass, and it sits there more as a promise than anything else. A promise for something after, a promise and a hope for the feelings he can feel growing everyday. This is more than he had felt for Elizabeth, more than he had felt for anyone really, and when he thinks about it, his chest feels light and warm in a way that makes him almost understand what everyone else had been talking about all this time.
The war gets in the way though.
Bucky dies, and the warmth curls up and hides itself in self-defence as his world comes crashing down around him. Peggy comforts him the best she can, her gaze sharp and determined as she refuses to let him wallow in self-blame.
“Allow Barnes the dignity of his choice,” she says, and he feels his resolve harden. His pain shifts and burns in his chest and he breathes in.
“I’m not going to stop until all of Hydra is dead or captured,” he says, and Peggy doesn’t try to stop him. He thinks she knows that this is the most important right now.
Maybe that is part of why he likes Peggy so much. She is practical, and reasonable – beyond the time she had shot him at least – and unlike the books or movies, she doesn’t seem intent on pulling up their budding romance when it isn’t needed.
The promise still sits between them, but they have other things they need to do first. And he knows without having to say anything that he needs to go after Hydra first, before he will be able to build a space for Peggy in his heart. Losing Bucky feels like ripping out a piece of himself, and it would feel wrong if it felt any differently.
So he goes after Hydra, and they invade the last nest in an effort to smoke out Redskull and the last of his forces. Redskull escapes off in a speeding plane though, and the wind whips past his face as he sits in the back of a speeding car, Peggy sitting next to him as Colonel Philips tries to catch up with the retreating plane.
There is no hesitation in him as he prepares to jump onto the wheels of the landing gear. He knows he needs to do this, and a part of him knows that this is probably one of the riskiest missions he has ever gone on — and that he might not make it back — but he can’t risk letting Redskull get away with those bombs.
He thinks Peggy knows all that too, and he thinks that is why, at the last minute, she cries out. “Wait!” she calls, and he blinks as he looks over at her. Next to him, Peggy surges up in one movement, her hands clasping at his suit as she leans in and kisses him.
He freezes, just like the last time, because he had not been expecting it, and somehow, he still hadn't been ready yet. He feels like he could have been, at some point, but… but… there isn’t really any time left for that now, is there?
Peggy pulls back, and he stares at her, trying to process all of his feelings, and it is only Colonel Philips’ gruff voice that pulls him out of it and focuses him back on the mission. He puts the kiss – and his onslaught of confusing emotions – at the back of his mind for now, and he moves on to fighting Redskull.
Peggy had been right about them being out of time. It probably doesn’t make things any easier for her though, when he is sitting in the cockpit of a Hydra bomber plane, the static of the radio the only thing linking them together.
“Peggy?” he calls, as the wind and snow whip past his face, the nose of the plane angled downward towards a blinding white shelf of ice.
“I’m here,” she replies, her voice soft and strained as she listens.
He swallows and his stomach squeezes as he tightens his grip on the wheel, trying to keep the fear out of his voice as he talks. “I’m gonna need a rain check on that dance.”
He wishes it were different. He does. He wishes they had had more time, and maybe he wishes that he hadn't needed so much time in the first place… But there isn’t much he can do about that now.
Peggy sounds like she is swallowing back tears as she responds, but her voice is surprisingly steady, the sound of it helping to ground his pounding heart. “Alright,” she says, willing to give him this in the last moments he has left. “A week, next Saturday, at the Stork Club.”
“You got it,” he says back, his eyes flicking to his open compass next to him as he promises something else that will never be fulfilled.
“Eight o’clock on the dot,” Peggy continues, trying to pull up some of her characteristic sharpness as the plane speeds closer and closer to the vast whiteness. “Don’t you dare be late. Understood?”
His grip is painful on the wheel and his lips feel numb from the cold, but he hangs onto the conversation with everything he has left. “You know,” he manages. “I still don’t know how to dance.”
The words aren’t anything close to everything he wants to say, and he doubts Peggy even knows the depth of what he wants to say; how much he had hoped to maybe learn to dance with her, how that had felt right, in a way that it hadn't for most people.
He manages to pull a sad laugh from her though. “I’ll show you how,” she says, and he wishes that that could be true. “Just be there.”
“We’ll have the band play somethin’ slow,” he replies, the ice filling his vision and his stomach twisting with sadness as he is reminded of what Bucky had said ages ago about taking it slow. The plane groans around him and the ice is a solid looming mass in front of him, and he hangs onto his line with Peggy with everything he has in him. “I’d hate to step on your—”
And then he hits.
And then, seventy years later, he wakes up again.