ᴏᴘᴇɴ ᴘᴏsᴛ 2018+2019 ( ɢᴇɴ + sᴍᴜᴛ )

[encompass]

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[mucked]

[ each name she commits to memory—and although she can’t imagine why she’d be called upon to recognize any of them, she knows that she could pick each one out of a crowd. these are steve’s friends—no matter if she never meets a single one of them, they’re worth knowing.

worth remembering. ]

You look like a family.

[ —she offers, quiet and thoughtful. ]

[uprightness]

We are. I owe them my life.

[ he looks at her ]

and I know for a fact they want me to live it. I've missed home, I've missed you. No matter how close we got - it wasn't the same. It wasn't home.

[mucked]

[ it slowly—silently—washes over her: steve had had a life (will have a life?) in the future. people near to him, dear to him, and people whose very existence would have impacted him at a foundational level. it’s a hard swallow—knowing that forces shaped him beyond the forces she already knew.

except, except, except. if not for his friends (his family) he might never have come back to her. he suggests that they pushed him to live more. ]

Alright. [ she snaps the book shut before leaning it up against an old, likely-busted lamp. she lays the photograph there, too, facing up and present. ] But this—here—isn’t home.

[ she means the flat. ]

Now that you’re here—what’s next?

[uprightness]

Well.

[ it's a good question she's asking. He moves back and leans on the bed's headboard. He - they - need a plan. ]

You have work for me.

[ something about a Soviet operative in the file she's been looking for. ]

I have a bit of work, too. I hope I can help you in whatever you need. We'll figure out everything else as we go.

[mucked]

[ and here they sit shoulder-to-shoulder once more. but this time, it’s in a bed—his bed, for however long he’s been here—and peggy pretends as if it’s no different to how they’d sat together on her desk. ]

I can’t imagine you’re interested in making our partnership an official one.

[ a rather calculated beat. ]

Us working together.

[ considering all the trouble he went to earlier. ]

[uprightness]

You mean us -

[ moving in together? Getting married? It's a good thing she completes the sentence before he does. He blinks before gathering his wits. ]

Of course. Yes. I'd want that. We're better as a team.

[ he's absolutely certain of it. ]

[mucked]

It comes with a certain measure of exposure—that’s all.

[ she ignores the dip in his attention. the tell-tale gap between hearing and speaking. ]

Perhaps the public won’t hear of your return. But congress will get a whiff of you. Sooner or later. Are you prepared for that much attention?

[uprightness]

I can handle it.

[ he's not excited to but she's right, they don't really have a choice. Eventually, it would get out. ]

So long as they don't find out about the stones. No one should. They only bring bad things.

[ and no politician should have that kind of power. ]

[mucked]

[ and just like that—he compels her to keep his secret. and peggy rarely met a secret she couldn’t keep. however, this one felt enormous. bigger than her. bigger than him.

it’s the kind of secret she already feels strangely guilty in keeping. but now isn’t the time to argue the point—as focused as steve might be on the stones, peggy maintains her focus on him. ]

We won’t be able to avoid an inquiry. They’ll want to know where you’ve been all this time.

[ read: they’ll need a lie. a good one. ]

[uprightness]

We'll think of something.

[ or rather, she will and steve will try to follow along. He wants to say they will be busy with work to answer questions but that will mean telling her just how much work they have. ]

I know I'm in the best of hands.

[ he quirks a smile at her. ]

[mucked]

[ she scowls. it’s not quite so sincere a scowl as it ought to be, maybe, but it’s got some bite. and it doesn’t disappear even after she rubs a tired hand over her face before crooking both arms behind her head like a makeshift pillow against the old bed’s even older headboard. ]

I don’t suppose you’ve gotten any better at this sort of work, have you?

[ she asks—peeking sideways at him with a rather doubt-filled expression. she’s talking about telling lies. selling stories. ]

[uprightness]

I think anyone who knows me would say no.

[ his journey to get the stones has proved as much. Steve realizes he will direly need peggy's help if he wants to see this through. He watches her with avid interest. ]

But I'll do the best I can not to stand in your way.

[ he's nice like this. ]

[mucked]

[ —an affectionate scoff. peggy shakes her head and tries (again and again) to hold on to her indignation in favour of thinking about the reality of the situation. it’s easier. ]

Sounds like your big plan is to sit back and leave me to do all the hard work. All the tradecraft.

[ it’s an implication she doesn’t resent—but it benefits her, just now, to let him fear (even if only ever so briefly) that she does. ]

You must have gone soft.

[uprightness]

Maybe. It's a recent development.

[ ever since he's seen her again. Ever since his reality has started to include her on his bed. Steve could simply lean down and kiss her and he's pretty sure she won't object too much. ]

I do what you say. It has always worked well for me.

[mucked]

Complete and utter bollocks.

[ she retorts—twisting, suddenly, until she’s nearly laying on her side to face him—upper body propped on a single elbow she’s jabbed into a thin weak pillow. ]

You do what I say, alright, but only to the point where you think your idea’s better. And then you do that. Mid-bloody-mission. The jawline and the uniform never fooled me, Steve Rogers. At heart, you’re a loose cannon.

[ she jabs one finger into his chest. ]

Insubordinate and rebellious from the day the SSR found you.

[ and, oh, she loves him for it. ]

[uprightness]

Does that mean you're not going to use my help at all??

[ he lets her accuse him, mostly because he knows she's right. Steve closes his hand around hers, her finger trapped between his. ]

I promise I'll behave.

[ it would sound more serious if he weren't smiling. ]

[mucked]

[ peggy sucks in a breath—but holds it. he’s been bold a handful of times, tonight. stealing kisses and grabbing hands. she wonders (fretfully, fascinated) in the back of her mind where on earth he’s learned such casual confidence. once upon a time, he could barely make it through a sentence.

once upon a time, she’d kissed him first. ]

A promise isn’t good enough.

[ she grouses. and wiggles her fingers free—only so she can instead lay her hand flat on his chest, sliding her palm sideways so she can once again chase down the steady beat of his heart. her body inclines just so—like betraying a desire to lean in and listen to it. ]

SHIELD doesn’t run on promises.

[uprightness]

Yeah?

[ he covers her hand with his. He is going to learn about SHIELD. he knows this isn't Fury's gig and he's glad for it. He's always thought of Peggy as the drive and heart behind SHIELD. Now he can finally see it. ]

Alright. What would it take??

[ that's more than a promise. ]

[mucked]

[ what would it take? bloody hell—this moment alone feels more pregnant, more potent, than any near-proposal before it. there is a clear line here: outline what she needs from him in specific, actionable details and he’ll meet the challenge. meet it, she suspects, and exceed it too.

if her breath feels short then it must be because of this professional precipice they’re standing on—and not the nearness of his warmth or the fact that she’s so close to him that she can glance from one blue eye to another. ]

You give your word—right here right now—that you and I can revisit the question of what to do about those stones. Not immediately, perhaps not for some time, but eventually. [ her mind is set. ] I’m not saying I’ll ultimately disagree with you, Steve—all I’m saying is that you don’t get to make that decision alone.

[ she needs to turn the question over in her mind. ]

[uprightness]

There is a lot I need to tell you about the stones. But it can wait another day.

[ only one. Surely he and her have earned as much. He does meet and hold her gaze; he doesn't need to be told, he feels the importance of the moment in his very bones. He's asking her for so much trust, he admires her for even considering it all. ]

I give you my word, I will tell you everything I know and I will always need your input.

[mucked]

You mightn’t like it.

[ her input. but that’s half the appeal, isn’t it? a partner who disagrees—but who listens while disagreeing—and who can help you find the forest beyond the trees. the frame outside the picture. it’s something she needs just as much as he does. after all, he has access to a much much larger picture.

her world feels so small and so big all at once. he’s made it tiny and boundless both. his return changes everything. ]

But if you’ll ask for it—and listen to it—then…yes, we’ll have you.

[ i’ll have you. ]

Off-books, at least, until the DOD gets wind of you.

[uprightness]

Won't make it any less valuable.

[ or true. He's learned to accept it, maybe not from everyone but certainly always from her. He smiles and nods, eager and grateful. ]

I will, I promise.

[ he realizes what they're doing. They're re-affirming the terms of an old, wonderful partnership. Awkwardly, he offers her a hand. ]

Want to shake on it?

[mucked]

[ awkward is precisely the word for it. there isn't enough space--not really--for a proper handshake between their canted, stretched-out bodies. a little flex along her forearm alerts her that fact; an attempt would be clumsy at best and weak-gripped at worst.

so her indecision rises to her face like a kind of tight-lipped frown--not for lack of goodwill or affection, but more as a latent symptom of the strange positions in which they find themselves both physically and emotionally. ]

--We can do one better.

[ she settles on her suggestion--her alternative--with a sudden alacrity. complete conviction. and before she can second-guess her own conclusions, she leans in, in, in and captures his mouth with hers. it's a spirited and sincere kind of kiss--communicating not only her love but also her trust. her admiration.

her faith. ]

[uprightness]

[ she moves quickly and suddenly, they're kissing. Steve forgets to breath again, he presses close and after a moment, he cups her cheek. She's soft and she smells good and steve knows they have work to do but when they're like this, he almost forgets entirely about it all.

Their noses bump, it makes him chuckle. ]

Is this how we're going to seal every agreement? I think I can get used to this.

[mucked]

[ she closes something that's come full circle--his arrival, back in her office, and a clumsy-hasty kiss shared in the dim light of her desk lamp. her fingers contract and twist on his shirt; she feels liable to float away.

but it ends (it always ends) and his laughter sends her face ducking, muffling, nuzzling up against the line of his neck--straight where it meets his shoulder. ]

For all the ones that matter.

[ she wants to tell him i could get used to it too but those words and any variation upon them get stuck in her throat. she inches closer--wiggling deeper onto his rented bed until their bodies touch. it's nothing tawdry or sordid; for the moment, she simply soaks up his warmth. his realness. ]