A/N: Have what is possibly the fluffiest thing I've ever written.
Warnings for: modern high-school AU, cavity-inducing fluff, slight language, discussions of American football by an American who knows very little about football.
Title comes from 'Guns and Roses' by Lana del Rey.
It's nearly halftime, and everyone's starting to get antsy. Steve can tell just by looking at Bucky, at the nervous energy brimming under the surface of his skin as he assumes his position on the field, that he isn't sure if they're gonna pull this off. Xavier Academy is beating them fourteen to seven, and their defense is so solid that it's not looking good at all.
Still, it's the semi-finals. Steve can't give up hope just yet. They couldn't have made it nearly to state if they weren't good, right?
"Rogers," Coach Phillips barks, once the clock runs out on the second quarter and the team starts migrating off the field. Steve nearly jumps out of his skin - Phillips's voice has an uncanny ability to carry, so it always feels like he's yelling directly in your ear.
Phillips jerks his head in the direction of the stands, and Steve's gaze follows the gesture and comes to a stop on the cheerleaders. His heart gives a funny skip in his chest - normally he'd be alarmed by that, but he's pretty used to it by this point. "You know the drill," Phillips says. "Christ, we go through this every game."
"Yes, sir," Steve says, before dutifully trotting off towards the cheerleaders.
Peggy's in the middle of a conversation with one of the co-captains of the cheer squad, but when she glances over and sees him approaching, a brief smile flits across her face. "Hi, Steve," she says.
"Hey, Peggy," he replies, concentrating very hard on making sure his voice doesn't crack. He went through puberty years ago just like everybody else, but his body can never really be trusted to cooperate with him.
Peggy quickly finishes her discussion with the co-captain, then turns her full attention back to Steve. "Yes?" she prompts. She looks vaguely amused, like she already knows exactly where this is going.
Steve tries very hard not to grin at her. They really have been through this every single game, but Steve never gets tired of saying it. "Coach Phillips told me to tell you that while he appreciates your enthusiasm, leave calling plays and harassing the other team's coach to him."
"Well, I think Coach Phillips should be glad to have a devout fan like me," she says loftily. With a feigned air of disappointment, she continues, "But alright, I'll tone it down."
"Thanks," Steve says. "Maybe leave the megaphone out of it for now."
Peggy chuckles, and Steve feels his cheeks heat with a blush. After moving to America in their sophomore year, Peggy had taken to American sports with surprising tenacity, and frequently used her position as cheer captain to shout at everyone on the football field. Steve found it completely endearing. "Alright, if you insist," Peggy says.
There's a moment of quiet, save for the sound of the marching band on the field. "So, how's Bucky?" Peggy asks, her expression growing slightly more serious. "I can tell he's nervous."
As quarterback, Bucky has a lot to be nervous about. "He is," Steve admits. "But he'll pull through. We all will." Even though he's never seen a moment of time on the field, and likely never will due to the fact that it could potentially kill him, as team manager (otherwise known as the person who runs Phillips's errands), Steve still considers himself part of the team.
"Of course you will," Peggy says, with a conviction that Steve finds heartening.
Steve smiles. "I mean, how could we not, with you cheering us on?"
The moment those words come out of his mouth, Steve thinks why the hell did I just say that out loud, but Peggy doesn't seem to notice his panic. She simply smiles at him, and says, "You don't give yourself enough credit, Steve. You're just as supportive of the team as I am."
Steve's racing heart calms slightly. Peggy always has this effect on him; no matter how nervous he gets, she always points due north, and never wavers. It's her smile, pretty and sincere, and her warm, dark eyes that give him the courage to say, "Hey, after the game - can we talk?"
She blinks at him, and then his meaning seems to catch up with her. "Oh," she says. "Of course."
Before he loses his nerve, Steve grins, then says, "I better get to the locker room."
"Duty calls," Peggy says, nodding, and Steve hurries away with a new spring in his step. Part of him is scared - he's had a crush on Peggy since sophomore year, after all, and maybe she feels the same or maybe she doesn't - but he can't worry about that now. They've got a game to win.
By the fourth quarter, the playing field is a bit more level. Steve had been talking to Peggy during Coach Phillips's halftime pep talk, but it must have been a damn good one, because the players have finally gotten their act together. It's 24-21, with Xavier clinging to the lead.
Steve has only taken his eyes off the game once in the past several minutes, and that was to check the clock. Time is running out, he realizes, his heart already sinking, but wait, no - there goes Morita, tearing off towards the end zone like his life depends on it. The crowd behind Steve is going nuts, but somehow one voice cuts through the noise - it's Peggy, and when he glances over his shoulder to look at her, he sees her with her megaphone again, screaming encouragement and waving her free arm wildly. Steve grins at her for the briefest of moments, and then the crowd erupts.
The few moments after that are absolute chaos - the instant the clock runs out, the entire team takes the field, followed a moment after by half the student body. Morita and Bucky, the evening's heroes, are almost immediately mobbed by jubilant friends and classmates. Steve is trying to weasel his way through the crowd to reach them when someone shouts his name.
He whirls, and there's Peggy, looking rather mussed with wisps of hair coming free from their pins. She's still the most beautiful thing Steve's ever laid eyes on, and she's pushing through the crowd of people to get to him.
He grins, opening his mouth to say something, but he never gets the chance because she kisses him soundly on the mouth.
Steve is only half-aware of what's going on around them - someone nearby wolf-whistles, and Dernier shouts something in his native tongue that Steve doesn't think can be found in a French textbook. He's mainly focused on the fact that he's kissing Peggy Carter. When she pulls away, he can still taste her on his mouth.
"We won," she says, her face inches away, sounding as surprised as he is by what just happened.
"We won," he repeats, dumbstruck.
"Well, it's about god-damn time," Bucky drawls, having appeared in the amount of time Steve and Peggy have spent kissing and staring at each other. Steve really isn't sure how long that is, actually. Everything's gone a bit fuzzy and starry. "You know, if this is how you guys are acting now, I'd hate to see what you're gonna do after we win state."
"Shut up," Steve says eloquently, before pulling Bucky in for a tight hug. Bucky claps Steve on the back so hard that his teeth rattle slightly, and Steve feels a great rush of affection for him.
"Nice lipstick, by the way, but it looks better on Carter," Bucky adds after pulling away, giving Steve a smug look. He's been telling Steve to just grow up and kiss her already for years, but it looks like Peggy took his advice first.
"You're right. I think a pinker shade would suit him better," Peggy muses without missing a beat, and Bucky laughs and pulls her in for a hug, too. After they separate, Bucky is nearly tackled and then dragged away by Dugan, who has been cheering almost incessantly for the past few minutes and shows no signs of stopping.
There's a brief pause between the two of them, and Steve realizes he's smiling so hard his cheeks hurt, high off of victory and Peggy. "So," he says. "About that talk."