Bucky took a sip of his coffee and gave Steve a speculative look. "Okay, what's going on between you and the brunette?" he asked.
Steve froze, threw a look over his shoulder in the direction that Bucky's nod indicated, and ducked his head as soon as he made eye-contact with the woman in question, who stood in line at the cash register. He mumbled something to his drink in as uncomfortable a tone as was possible when there were fewer than seven broken bones in the room.
Bucky let out a laugh. "That bad, huh?" he chuckled, looking the woman up and down. She was beautiful, in a gentle way though, that gave Bucky the obscure impression that she wouldn't have minded if she weren't gorgeous. She seemed nice, but there was something in her posture that hinted at strength and decisiveness. A beautiful woman had to be that if she was going to get anywhere with Steve Rogers.
"Well, she keeps smiling at us, so you can't have done anything completely Steve," he noted when his friend continued to grumpily sip his drink in silence.
Steve finally looked up, and Bucky dragged his attention away from the woman, who had just been given her order and was adding a packet or sugar, to meet his gaze.
"She was clearly in a hurry and I spilt coffee all over her," he murmured, wincing at the memory, "and it was all downhill from there…"
Steve was blushing slightly, looking darkly out the window so as to obscure his face from the woman with the big brown eyes. Bucky decided not to press for details – for now, at least, since they were probably hilarious – since he got the gist of the situation.
"Well," he noted cheerily, "She doesn't seem to have taken it personally. At least not in a bad way. C'mon, Steve, she likes you. You'll hurt her feelings."
Steve met his cheeky grin with a doubtful expression. This was the problem. Steve's current status as a hunk and superhero meant nothing to him apart from the duties that went with it, and it baffled him slightly if anyone else gave a damn. His luck with women, and people in general, earlier in life was bad enough that he didn't really expect things to go any better for him now. Add in a generous helping of naïveté and cluelessness and it was a recipe for disaster. A recipe for Steve Rogers.
"Think about it," he pressed in a cajoling tone. "Even though you dumped a hot drink on her, and whatever happened next, she keeps looking over here. Not glaring, the good kind of looking. And she's smiling. When is a pretty smile ever a sign that someone's angry?"
Steve frowned, thinking, and opened his mouth to reply, but Bucky cut him off. "Great, she's leaving. Last chance to make a move, Steve."
Instinctively, the poor sod looked up to watch her leave at the same time as she threw one last look at their table. Cringing blue eyes met warm brown, and her bright red lips stretched into a wide smile. The matching blazer to her navy pencil skirt was slung over one arm, and she held her take-away cup in the other, which she raised in farewell in lieu of waving.
Then she was out the door and striding down the bustling footpath with purpose, quickly out of sight despite their position near the window.
"Believe me now?" Bucky asked triumphantly.
Steve was smiling slightly, but pulled his expression back towards neutral. "She's being polite, and not holding a grudge. That doesn't mean she likes me, though. I'm going to leave her alone," he resolved.
Bucky groaned and banged his head down onto the table.
Steve checked his watch anxiously as he walked quickly along the crowded street, dodging people carefully as he went – it was at times like this that he was very aware of his sudden escalation to abnormally large. Captain America hated being late anywhere for anything, but half an hour late was extremely poor form, even if it was only Bucky. He would never admit the niggling worry, though, that the woman with the heart-stopping smile and brown hair would be there, and worse, Buck would have time to start trouble before he got there.
Side-tracked by the thought of the woman, he was smiling when he walked into the café, remembering her thick accent and smooth, rich voice, mesmerising even when flustered. He wished that his only conversation with her had been more pleasant.
Looking up from his daydreaming, he stopped dead halfway through the door. There she was, waiting for her order, chestnut hair in perfect waves, standing straight and proud but smiling pleasantly. Angelically. At Bucky, who leant on the counter beside her, giving her his charming grin with his head tilted to the side.
Steve stood there for several seconds, long enough for people to start throwing glances, since he held the door ajar, allowing wintry air to swirl into the shop, stealing the warmth prized by the various customers, cuddled into the leather couches or settled at the tables with friends or lovers.
Supposing he had no choice, he let the door swing shut and began walking towards the pair. His best friend of the better part of a century, sort of, spied him and stood upright, just as the barista called out, "Peggy."
The woman favoured the woman behind the counter with a glorious smile, said something to Bucky, and then turned and walked toward him. No, not him, the exit. She gave him a wry smile and a nod as she passed, and then she was gone, like so many times before.
Peggy. He turned the name over in his mind. Old fashioned, but it suited her. She had a timeless sort of beauty.
"You're late," Bucky said as he sidled over, drawing him out of his reverie. "Let's go, or we'll still be there when it starts to snow. You know, I never cease to be amazed at the detail of modern weather predictions…"
Steve followed him out of the store, leaving behind the yellow glow of the calm lighting and rich scent of coffee, half listening to his friend. He wondered what he was planning. Bucky loved mischief a little too much sometimes. And he was positive this was one of those times.
Steve was up early that morning. He went for a run, returning home as the sun rose. He checked his phone as he towel-dried his hair, unsurprised to see a text from Bucky had come in. They were to present a few medals today, and if he had mixed feelings, Buck must have it ten times worse.
Coffee before the presentation? Meet at the café, the message read.
OK, I'll be there in 15 minutes, he replied. He wondered if Bucky would be alright doing this, but maybe being next to each other would make it easier to bear, or maybe he wanted to talk something through before they arrived.
As he finished getting dressed (in civvies, neither the Cap uniform nor his old army one would have been right) another message came through.
Good. Table by the window. See you soon.
Ten minutes later, Steve walked in. Bucky sat in his preferred seat, facing the door, newspaper held aloft and completely obscuring his face. Steve dropped into the seat opposite him with an amused huff.
"Since when do you avidly read the newspaper?" he joked.
The paper dropped, and behind it was a mildly shocked Peggy. They stared at each other for a moment, before she replied evenly, "Well, it's always been a habit, but I suppose one I've more actively pursued in the last few years."
A few more seconds of silence.
"And yourself?" she queried with a small smile, today painted dark red to stand out against her pale skin.
"Longer than you," he murmured, and she let out a laugh. "Sorry, uh, I think my friend is playing a joke on me. He said he'd be here."
She nodded. "I thought as much. He was very insistent I sit with him, then left a minute later," she said, distracting him with the way her full lips bent around the fuller sounds of the language as the English speak it.
"Yeah, that's Bucky," he sighed. "Sorry. And I should apologise again for bumping into that first time. I'm sure you didn't need that, you looked… rushed."
She laughed. "Really, it's alright. I maintain that it was my fault. And yes, I was on my way to a job interview. But I think it made me more memorable, actually, so thank you," she laughed.
He didn't know whether to find it funny or be even more mortified, so he settled for raising his eyebrows. "You didn't get the job?" he asked, disbelieving.
She grinned. "No, I did. So thank you," she insisted, getting a laugh out of him at last.
"I'm Peggy, by the way. Peggy Carter," she said, extending her hand.
He took it, discarding the extremely weird urge to kiss it rather than shake. "Steve Rogers," he replied.
A burst of chilly air announced the silent return of the Winter Soldier, long dark hair flying forward to obscure his devious grin.
"Sorry about that, just a little errand I had to run," he announced to the pair. "Steve, we should really get going. I'll wait outside. Nice to see you Peggy." And with that, he disappeared.
When Steve looked back to Peggy, she was giving him a serious look that he didn't know what to do with. "Well, I guess I'll… go…" he said awkwardly, getting up to leave.
"Wait, Steve," she said, standing as well. "Will you call?" she asked, handing him a business card.
He looked down at it, a small square of white card in his hand, innocuous but representative of a thousand possibilities.
He met her eyes and beamed at her. "Absolutely."
Bucky banged on the window – thankfully not with the metal hand – gesturing wildly for Steve to hurry up.
"Bye," she smiled.
"See you soon," Steve answered.