A/N: I was struck by sudden Steve/Peggy feelings. This quick, sad little thing is what happened.
Warnings for: character death, fluff, sadness.
Title inspired by 'Lucky Ones' by Lana del Rey.
Peggy might not have a lot of time left, they tell him one day. Her heart just isn't working right anymore, which is really par for the course at her age, according to her doctors at the nursing home. Steve thinks it's the cruelest twist fate has given him yet. He just came back from the dead, so to speak, and now Peggy is fading away right before his eyes.
He visits her once a week, and even more often if he can manage. It's hard, since being an Avenger makes his schedule busy and unpredictable, to put it lightly. But he's already lost far too much time. He won't lose any more.
Her grip on reality is slipping, and probably has been for longer than he cares to admit. He notices that on a Monday, and wonders vaguely how many more Mondays she has left. He wonders if she even realizes that it's Monday.
Right now, she's lucid. She's smiling, and when she smiles like that, he can see past the wrinkles that line her face and the white hair she has tied back in a regal-looking knot. He can see straight through all the decades he's missed - all the decades they could have shared together - but even now, she's the loveliest dame he's ever laid eyes on. His heart aches at the thought.
Peggy's also the sharpest dame he's ever known, and she's even more beautiful for it. She reads his expression with ease, and says, "What's wrong?"
He just smiles. "Nothing."
She's having none of it. "Out with it, Steve," she says, holding his gaze evenly. He wishes he could meet her eyes like this every day for the rest of his life. He wishes life hadn't dealt them this hand. Peggy could have been his girl, she could have been the mother of his children. But instead they're here.
He's blinking back tears before he knows it. "What is it?" she whispers, concerned. She reaches for his hand, and takes it with her own fragile, gnarled one.
"Nothing, it's just - you know, I used to think I'd marry you some day," he says, the words tumbling out before he can stop them. He might as well go ahead and say them; he and Peggy, of all people, ought to know that there's never any time to waste. "I thought, when the war was over ..."
Peggy's lips twist into a wry smile, a hint of old bitterness in her eyes. He knows the feeling, except for him, it isn't old at all. "The war's been over for a very long time, Steve."
"I know," he replies quietly, "but not for me."
Peggy's smile softens. "Is this because I'm dying?"
Steve tenses. "What?" He didn't think Peggy would know that, and even if she did, he didn't think she'd be so blunt about it.
"Steve, I'm at the point in my life where I've come to accept that death is inevitable," she says evenly. "And at my age, death is no far away thing. Some day, I suspect, you'll experience the same situation."
Steve drops his gaze. "I could be there now. If things had turned out differently."
"But you're not, and they didn't," Peggy says, gently. "Don't cry on my account, Steve."
Steve reaches up to wipe at damp eyes, and offers her a weak smile. "I'm sorry. I just - you're the only one who understands. Don't get me wrong, I love the people I've met since I woke up. But I should have had a life with the people who made me who I am. I should have had a life with you."
Her eyes are wet, too, he notices. "And I should have had a life with you. I suspect you would have made an excellent husband."
Steve smiles again, and this time he doesn't have to force it. "I think so, too."
Peggy just looks at him for a minute, studying him. "Well, better late than never, I suppose."
"What?"
"Would you marry me, Steve?" she says.
Steve stares at her for a second. This is such a Peggy thing to do - she's always the one to take charge, to own a situation and make it work for her, no matter what the circumstances. God, he loves her. He's loved her since he first laid eyes on her, when he was just a scrawny kid from Brooklyn, desperate to do some good in the world. "Of course I would."
She smiles. "Bring your suit and come by tomorrow. If you're not off saving the world, of course."
Steve's crying again, but he doesn't give a damn, not now. "What time?" he says, half-laughing.
"Two o'clock," she says. "On the dot."
"I won't be late, I promise," he says, bringing her hand to his mouth and kissing it lightly. "Not this time."
Steve and Peggy are married on Tuesday, at a courthouse. There are no rings, there is no wedding night, and there is no honeymoon. There is only Steve and Peggy. It's been a long time coming, and it's just them, and that's enough.
On Thursday, Peggy goes to sleep and she doesn't wake up. Unlike what happened to Steve, she'll never have the chance to wake up again - her time has run out, while Steve's clock is still ticking. One day, though, Steve thinks maybe he'll get to go to sleep for good and see her again.