This is just a bit of fun I had with these characters, trying to find their personalities and adequately represent my interpretations of them (I think the length shows how much fun I had). As far as timeline goes, I imagine this after Civil War but before the Infinity Wars start, and in this piece the Avengers have reunited before Thanos comes to wreck havoc (I don't think this is how it'll play out in the MCU, and it's not necessarily how I want it to play out, but for the purpose of the story, this is how it works). So, in my head, they've been dating a year or so. Also, I like the idea of Tony being Sharon's pseudo older brother. It makes sense. Lastly, I'm already working on part 2, and hopefully I'll have it up soon.

Disclaimer: All characters belong to Marvel and the MCU. I own nothing.

He says her name while he's asleep.

"Peggy."

Sharon's heart stops. Her lungs stop. Her brain stops. Every cell in her body shuts down because her boyfriend, who she loves, just said another girls name in bed. And even though it wasn't during sex, it's still her Aunt Peggy who he's dreaming of, and that's somehow worse. Aunt Peggy, who she worshipped as a child, who's one of the few people Sharon loves unconditionally, who told her stories about Captain America.

She should've expected something like this. Oddly enough, it's not the first time this has happened. One of her previous boyfriends had called her Peggy once because he idolized the founder of SHIELD so much. Still, she'd hoped Steve wouldn't do this. At the same time, she can't blame him, either, because he'd known Aunt Peggy personally. He'd loved her and she'd loved him — Sharon had pieced that together from all the stories. Aunt Peggy loved Uncle Daniel, too, but Steve Rogers always had a place in her heart. Apparently, she has a place in his, one that Sharon could never touch.

She hasn't slept in 48 hours, and her body is screaming for sleep, but Sharon knows she won't be able to. She slips out of bed, quiet as a wraith, and pads her way into the kitchen, where she sits on a barstool, folds her arms, rests her head, and tries to hold herself together.

She doesn't sleep all night.

Steve finds her there shortly after dawn the next morning.

Still awake, Sharon looks up when he walks in, forcing a smile to her face. He's wearing a CIA shirt (a gag gift from her, because she has plenty of his shirts, Captain America and otherwise, and he needs at least one representing her work), and his hair is still wild from sleep and their night together, and Sharon's mind reminds her that even though he was moaning her name last night, in his dreams he was saying Peggy's. It takes effort to keep the smile on her face, even though it's nowhere near convincing.

"You okay?" Steve asks, because he's Steve and that's what he does. She knows that he's watching her carefully, waiting for a response, trying to figure out what's off. It's not hard to guess that something's off — Sharon's never up before him, and even if that did happen, she certainly wouldn't have left the bed to come sit on a barstool. The smile slips from her face.

"Fine," she says, because it's all she can force herself to say.

Steve hums as he grabs the coffee pot, a sound of clear disbelief. "You got up early this morning," he comments. "Very early."

"Couldn't sleep," Sharon says, because it's true and if there's one thing Steve demands it's honesty. "I didn't want to wake you with my tossing and turning."

"And sitting at the barstool was your brilliant idea? Not, say, the couch?" Heat rushes to her cheeks, but Sharon isn't sure if it's embarrassment or anger. "Sharon," Steve says, his tone considerably softer, as if he's realized he's struck a nerve and remembered that the best way to get her to talk is to keep her calm, "you could've stayed in bed with me. You know I don't mind you tossing and turning all night. And if you did I could've tried to help you fall asleep." He smiles at her, a flirty, dirty one reserved for her. "I've done it before."

This time it's definitely embarrassment in her veins, even if it's him and they've done a million things together a million times. "I know, Steve," Sharon says, because she does know that if she'd stayed he would've helped her fall asleep. But this isn't one of those times where she can't sleep simply because she can't. He said Aunt Peggy's name and there's a horror in that that Sharon's spent all night trying to justify, minimize, erase. "But you just got back from your mission and even you need sleep."

"So do you."

Sharon waves a dismissive hand. "I'm not out in the field right now," she says. "I can be tired while doing paperwork."

"And what if you find a lead?" Steve asks, irritation creeping into his voice. "What if you have to leave tonight for an op? Or in an hour?"

"Today is my day off. So if they call me in I'll be pretty annoyed."

"We don't get time away from these jobs, Sharon," he snaps. "So I'll ask again. What if you had to leave for an op tonight, running on no sleep?"

Sharon glowers. "I've been on ops where I haven't slept in well over 48 hours."

"That's not the point!" Steve's glaring at her, his jaw set and his muscles tense. She's only seen him this angry a few times, but it's never been directed at her. Even when they'd argued about moving in together and he'd been pissed off at her snide remarks and weak excuses, he hadn't been this angry. This was worry over some scenario he'd imagined bleeding into anger fueled by her snide remarks. This was panicking over the what if's that hadn't happened yet.

"I'm okay, Steve," Sharon says quietly, shoulders slumping, cutting him off before his tirade can continue. "I'm tired but I can't sleep right now. I've got too much on my mind. But I'm okay."

His muscles are still tense, but his voice is less irritated when he says, "You know you can tell me anything."

Sharon tries to smile, but it's still hard. "I know," she says. "But I can't talk about it right now. I need to get through it on my own first."

"We agreed to work things out together," Steve reminds her. She remembers making this promise with him, this vow to look at problems and find a solution they could reach together. Their days of fighting solo were done, so to speak. They were a team, and teams communicated with each other. Sharon sighs, hopping off her barstool and walking around the counter so that she's standing before him.

"I know," Sharon murmurs, wrapping her arms around Steve's waist. She's grateful that he wraps his arms around her in return immediately. "It's just one of those situations I don't know how to approach you with. You know me, Steve. You know that I've always been a runner in these situations, that it took me forever to leave my soap in your shower and to say 'I love you' even though I knew it for weeks. I'm trying not to run right now. I swear I'll talk to you about it the moment I know how to."

Oddly, Steve looks even more on edge. Speeches aren't really Sharon's thing, and she's just given him a long winded reason for not telling him what he wants to know rather than telling him outright. It probably didn't help that she'd reminded him she was a runner. Now he was going to be even more watchful.

"Okay," Steve says at length. His lips are warm against her forehead — she's too tall for him to rest his head comfortably on top of hers, but Sharon doesn't mind, even if it would be cute — and she knows that even though he's relenting, he's still on edge. Omission isn't exactly lying, but it's not communicating fully, either. "Okay. We'll talk about it soon, then," he pauses, pulling away to look her in the eyes. "Tony's party is tonight, but we can stay here if you want. Relax, order take out, watch a couple movies. Or, well, I could go by myself and give you some time alone to collect your thoughts and all."

It doesn't take a genius to know that that isn't the option Steve wants. There's fear in his eyes, tucked in a corner, surrounded by the worry and hurt that still hasn't left.

"No, we can still go. I haven't seen Tony in forever, anyway. Or Nat."

"You're sure?"

"Wouldn't miss it."

The car ride is quiet, which is odd for them. They pick up Sam on the way, and while he frequently tries to make conversation, it always falls flat when it's Sharon's turn to speak. She and Steve may have reached an agreement, but that hasn't stopped her from being locked in her mind all morning, constantly thinking Peggy, Peggy, Peggy and trying not to panic when the voice in her head was Steve's and the tone became more sensuous. Had he said it like that last night? Had he said Peggy the way he says Sharon when she's doing something particularly pleasing? Or had he said Peggy like she was the center of his universe? Had he ever said Sharon like that? Had he ever thought of her like that?

"Sharon?" Steve asks (concerned, not center of the universe tone), reaching back to touch her leg. His eyes keep flicking between her and the road, the question ever present, but he doesn't ask. Sam, however, hasn't gotten the memo.

"You okay, Sharon?" he asks, his eyes focused solely on her. They haven't technically known each other that long — they'd only met once or twice before she and Steve announced they were dating — yet they can read each other better than most can. Perhaps it's the nature of the business, because espionage and avenging both rely on flawless teamwork and the ability to communicate without speaking, or perhaps it's their close ties to one Captain America and the unspoken bond they have to protect him. Hell, maybe they just get each other.

"Yeah," Sharon says, faking a tired smile. "Just have a lot on my mind."

"Obviously," Sam says, laughing. "We were trying to find somewhere to eat and you didn't say anything at all."

The smile feels less fake. "Please tell me you guys chose something good. And by good I don't mean kale shakes and spinach salads."

"No," Steve says, smiling a little. "But we are stopping at one on the ride back."

It eases her heart just a little to see him smile, even though the thought that immediately follows is, How many times did he smile at Aunt Peggy with that same smile? It's painful to keep the fake smile on her face, but Sharon tries, and thinks of a witty comeback, and hopes that she pulls it off.

"Not if I drive."

The diner they pick is perfect. Old fashioned, with tile floors and a jukebox and burgers and milkshakes. Sharon loves places like this — they remind her of her childhood, of dancing to old songs with Tony and dipping fries into strawberry shakes with Aunt Peggy.

It takes a bit of effort, but Sharon fights the wave of nausea that comes with thinking about Aunt Peggy. She hates the doubt that's in her mind, the fear of where Steve's heart truly lies. Yesterday she wouldn't have doubted Steve in any way — he was good, honorable, and honest. He was passionate and loving, and he never hesitated to make her feel special. When they were together, she knew she was the center of his world.

But what about when they weren't together? And there was still a massive difference between center of the world and center of the universe.

"We've lost her again," Sam says, pulling Sharon from her thoughts. Steve and Sam are both watching her, Sam with open curiosity and a little worry, Steve looking far more pensive. His brows are drawn together, his eyes squinted ever so slightly, his mouth pressed into a thin line. She loves this look on him, thinks its adorable even though half the time when he wears it he's thinking of something bad that happened. Maybe that's why she loves it — she loves to kiss it away.

"I'm good," Sharon says, smiling and leaning into Steve's side. The pensive look is still present, but he at least wraps his arm around her. "I was just really caught up in this place. I love diners. I used to come all the time with my aunt."

"Peggy?" Steve asks, and even though it's innocent and pure curiosity, a lump larger than the sun lodges itself in Sharon's throat, making speech impossible. She nods, trying to smile, trying to pull off an 'I really miss her' expression, the weight of Peggy's name pressing on her heart.

It was so much easier when Sharon could think about how much she missed Aunt Peggy, think of their time together and not think about how Steve dreamt about her. Yesterday feels like a thousand years ago, and the rest of her life will never be the same.

"I can see that," Steve says after a minute. "Peggy — she was something else."

Steve launches himself into stories about Peggy and Bucky and the Howling Commandos. The way he talks about everyone, a person would think they were the only ones fighting in the war. He barely stopped when the waitress came to take their order, politely asking for two cheeseburgers before continuing on. He was still telling stories after their food arrived, talking between bites and looking happier than Sharon had ever seen him. Sam listened intently to every word out of Steve's mouth, smiling and laughing constantly, and Sharon, well.

Sharon focused on holding herself together. She tried to pretend she was as enraptured in Steve's stories as Sam was, but the problem was that she'd heard them from Aunt Peggy before and hearing Steve's side was great and all, but it made everything real. Because now it wasn't hearing stories about Captain America and Aunt Peggy's time in the war. It was hearing stories from Captain America about the war, and what Aunt Peggy had done and how much she'd influenced his life. It was like there were two parts of Steve — the part during the war and the part in the future. And while Sharon could be part of the future, she could never, ever replace the woman he'd loved during the war.

She barely touches her plate.

Sharon's pushing a fry around in her ketchup when Steve stops his story telling and goes to pay for the check. Sam tries to offer to pay, but he doesn't put much effort into it — Sharon knows because she's seen the two nearly come to blows before arguing about who would cover the tab (often, if it got too bad, Sharon would pay the tab herself while they were too busy arguing, though it never fully worked because she'd always find a wad of bills in her purse that was double the tab) — and Sharon preps herself for the oncoming interrogation.

It starts the second Steve's out of earshot.

"What'd he do?" Sam asks, leaning across the table. "I can't really beat him up, but I can try dropping him in a pond."

"It's nothing."

"It sure as hell isn't nothing. What do you need me to do?"

"There's nothing you can do, Sam," Sharon says, eyeing Steve near the door. Another minute at most. "It's complicated and I'm trying to figure it out and every time I start to come to terms with it I make it worse for myself. So there's nothing you can really do."

"You're freaking him out. And you're kind of freaking me out. Are you sure you don't want me to push him in Tony's pool? Would that help?"

The smile's a little less fake this time. "Sadly, it wouldn't solve anything," Sharon says, glancing at Steve. "He's about to come back."

"Anything I can do?"

"Talk to him," Sharon says. "Don't include me."

Steve tries to get coax her into the conversation a few times during the car ride, but Sam always finds a way to give her an out. Sharon makes a note to get him a present for it later.

"Good to see you, everyone," Tony says as they step off the elevator in Avengers Tower. "Especially you, Sharon. You're such a stranger these days."

Another attempt at a smile, another reminder of how many times she's faked it today. "Sorry, Tony."

Alarm passes through Tony's eyes, his instilled older brother senses tingling. Though he and Steve have been doing better since their blowout, their partnership is still a bit uneasy. Thanos is a threat waiting to strike, and while they agreed to reunite all of the Avengers so when he does come they're prepared and a team, Sharon knows Tony hasn't quite forgiven him for not telling him about Bucky and his parents, and Steve, likewise, hasn't fully forgiven Tony for not giving Wanda a choice. Parties like these have helped ease the tensions, as has fighting side by side, but they're a long way from where they were.

And tonight, Sharon isn't helping that recovery.

"What did Captain Perfect Teeth do?" Tony asks, pulling Sharon off to the side after a few more pleasantries and basically throwing Maria to chat with Steve and Sam. She can already see that he's thinking a thousand things, each one worse than the last, trying to find the cause of her pain and the appropriate level of anger to use against Steve because of it. "Hitting girls isn't his style, he's too much of a gentleman, but maybe if he was drunk — there's no telling what a drunk person will do — was he drunk? How did he even get drunk? Did he —"

"He wasn't drunk, Tony," Sharon interrupts before all of the theories can explode. "He didn't do whatever you're thinking he did, either."

"But he did do something."

"It's complicated."

Tony throws his arms open wide. "As your pseudo but totally awesome older brother, I demand you tell me what's wrong. Otherwise the theories will explode and I'll have to install cameras in your apartment to make sure he isn't hurting you."

"You think that's a good idea, Tony?" Sharon asks, arching an eyebrow. "I mean, maybe Steve and I could give you some ideas for when you're with Pepper…"

"Stop that now," Tony says. "I don't need to know anything about my friend or my fake sister's sex life, I revoke the camera idea." Tony pauses, head tilting with a new idea. "Or maybe I'll have FRIDAY skip those parts — like if something looks like it's going there she'll skim over it until it's safe again. There's an idea." "You're not putting cameras in our apartment, Tony."

"Watch me."

"I'll tell Pepper."

"I think she'd agree to it if it means making sure you're okay."

"What are you two arguing about?" Steve asks, wandering over. His hands are shoved in his pockets, and Sharon gets the distinct impression that he's been watching them since Tony pulled her aside. The question is, how much as he heard?

"Nothing," Sharon says at the same time Tony demands, "What did you do to my baby sister?"

If she loved him any less, murdering him wouldn't be difficult in the slightest.

Even so, it's a tempting option.

"Wish I knew," Steve says, face serious. "But she isn't ready to tell me yet, and it's killing me, but I respect her choice." There's an implication behind his words, a warning for Tony: You shouldn't push her, either.

"Well," Tony says after several moments of silence. "Whatever you did, don't mess it up any further. Sharon deserves someone who doesn't make her upset."

She almost argues that any healthy relationship has their ups and downs, and that if anyone in their relationship is undeserving it's her because Steve's Captain freaking America and nobody could ever compare to him. But she doesn't get to speak before Steve says, "Believe me, I know it."

"What happened?" Natasha says, coming to stand beside Sharon at the bar. The best thing about Natasha is her bluntness, but sometimes it's the worst, too. Sharon eyes her, debating whether or not she could get away with a lie. The way Nat's eyes narrow tells her that's a hard no.

"He said Peggy's name last night," Sharon mumbles around the edge of her glass and a sip of gin and tonic.

"Please tell me not during sex."

"No!" Sharon says immediately, nearly spitting out her drink. "No, no. While he was sleeping. I kind of wish it'd been during sex, though. Then I'd actually have a reason to be mad at him, and he'd know what he'd done."

"Are you mad at him?"

Sharon shakes her head. "I'm just… I'm hurt right now. I'm trying not to panic and run like I always do. I'm trying to come to terms with it because it probably won't be the last time. But isn't that worse? He wants me to be her, Nat. And I could deal with it so much better if it was anyone else, but it's Aunt Peggy. It's so awkward and fucked up. He's thinking about her, dreaming about her, while I'm right beside him. I grew up with stories about him and her during the War, and I get that he loves her and I know that she loved him just as much, but still. She moved on with Uncle Daniel and I thought Steve was moving on by dating me. I thought Steve saw — I thought he saw me instead of her." A pause, a breath, a reminder to hold herself together. "That's stupid. I'm stupid. Nobody's ever seen me without seeing Aunt Peggy. And Steve knows Aunt Peggy. God. I should've expected this, right? I'm an idiot."

There are tears in her eyes, but she's Sharon Carter, and she doesn't do the whole emotions in front of people thing. It took her forever to get used to emotions in front of Steve, and she's still not exactly comfortable. She will not break here.

"Okay, come here," Nat says, dragging her away. "First and foremost, we're going somewhere more private to let you cry and calm down. Then we're going to figure out what to do."

"I don't want to cry and calm down," Sharon says, tugging on Nat's arm. "I'm good. I'm solid."

"Like hell you are, Agent," Nat says, pulling her more forcefully. "Let's go."

"Sharon?" Steve asks, coming over before Nat can take her away. Sharon smiles a little, though it's more from relief that Nat won't be able to kidnap and interrogate her than joy over seeing Steve. Not that she isn't happy to see him — her heart always flutters a little when he's around — but today's been hell all because he said Peggy. "You okay?"

"I'm doing better than earlier," she admits, boldly wrapping an arm around his waist. Steve smiles a little as he reciprocates, but he isn't at ease. He hasn't been at ease all day.

"Nat?" he asks, glancing at their red-headed friend. "Can you give us a minute?"

Nat's eyes flicker between the two for a moment before she smiles, says, "Of course," and darts away.

"Now," Steve says, trapping her in his arms, "be honest. Are you okay?"

She hates the words 'be honest.' Honesty is important to Steve, given all the lies he's been told before and after the ice (she's responsible for some of those lies. She doesn't like to think about it), so Sharon is typically honest with him. The problem is that in times like this, when she doesn't want to worry him more than she already has, when she's trying to come to terms with something on her own, the phrase 'be honest' makes any omission feel like a lie. Sharon hates it.

"You said you'd let me come to you when I was ready," she says instead.

"I know," Steve says, but he looks upset to say it. "But that wasn't my question. I asked if you were okay."

Damn him and his eyes. Damn him and his ability to make her feel guilty even when she has the right to be upset. Damn him and his concern.

"I'm not," Sharon admits, resting her head against his shoulder. "The thing I'm upset about — it's complicated. I hate it but I have to accept it and accepting it is really difficult."

"It's something I did, isn't it?" Steve asks, and she doesn't have to look to know his eyebrows are scrunched together (adorably). Sharon nods. "If you tell me what it is, I can stop doing it. Simple as that."

"It's not something you can really prevent, Steve."

"If you'd tell me — "

"I need to go find Natasha," Sharon says, stepping out of his arms, out of his warmth. "I'll meet you in the room later."

She leaves him standing there, his arms limp at his sides, a defeated look on his face.

It's been 72 hours since she last slept now, and Sharon's fairly certain that 72 is going to turn into 96.

Their bed in Avengers Tower is comfortable, and even though Steve's warm, solid, real against her back, entirely hers, her mind replays the previous night endlessly. Peggy, Peggy, Peggy, Peggy. Why couldn't it be any other woman? She'd be fine if he'd said Natasha (that's bullshit, Sharon knows, but still, it'd be better than Peggy) or any other girl's name. God, even her mother's name. Anything but Peggy.

"You're not asleep," Steve murmurs against her hair. She'd left the party before him, and was faking sleep when he joined her. He hadn't called her on it then, just slipped under the covers, pulled her against his chest, and planted a quick kiss on her cheek. She still felt terrible for running earlier, for leaving him looking so hopeless. Peggy wouldn't leave Steve like that (it was thoughts like this that were currently keeping her awake).

"I didn't know you were still awake."

Steve hums. "I'm not falling asleep before you tonight."

The promise is short lived — Sharon has her terrible thoughts to keep her awake, and Steve falls asleep after two hours. He may not need as much sleep as regular people, but long periods of inactivity tend to knock him out without fail. She's not angry at him for it, but she is a little disappointed. The words are on the tip of her tongue, the explanation turning over in her mouth. She could just tell him.

But then it happens. Again.

"Peggy."

This time, Sharon lets herself break.

So. That was fun. As always, please review because they make my day a million times better, and hopefully I'll have part two up soon for you.