Day One: Headcanon
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The first time Steve held Peggy's hand, it was because she'd lost her gloves and her fingers were so cold. He couldn't stand seeing it, so he tried to help her get warm.
He was expecting a punch in return.
He didn't expect her to hold his hand back.
The Commandos always pretend they don't notice anything. Sometimes they really don't, because even though Steve is a horrible actor, Peggy's quite good at pretending she's not holding the captain's hand.
Colonel Phillips just growls and gives Peggy new gloves. He never seems to notice how often the gloves start "getting lost" after that.
And because I clearly can't have a headcanon without turning it into a story - here's the companion piece to go with it! I'm sure you won't mind.
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Steve Rogers didn't get cold anymore. It was nice.
Well, that wasn't entirely true. On a day like this, standing out in the middle of nowhere on a muddy airstrip on a raw, windy day, waiting for their ride, he could certainly feel the chill. But it didn't cut to the bone like it had when he was smaller - and with his big army-issue greatcoat on, it didn't bother him much at all.
No, it wasn't the cold that was bothering him.
It was Agent Carter's hands. Her left hand, to be specific.
She'd lost her gloves at some point over the last couple days. Nobody was sure where. And while she'd been game as anything about it, he knew it wasn't easy, and her hands were paying the price. The right hand still had a pocket to go into, so that was good. But the left hand…
Steve found his eyes drifting to her hand where it hung by her side, next to the shredded pocket that offered absolutely no warmth whatsoever and couldn't be mended. Her fist was tightly clenched, knuckles bone white, reddened fingertips tucked into her palm where they could try to glean a little warmth.
He'd have given her his own gloves days ago, except that he'd already given them to a young mother at that last decimated town they'd passed through. And he couldn't find it in himself to regret that decision, only…
Only Peggy's hand looked so cold.
An extra gust blew the agent's curls nearly on end, and she raised her hand to capture them before they got in her eyes. Her chapped, chilled knuckles cracked at the movement, and by the time she'd got her hair under control again, a trace of blood smeared across the back of her hand,
That was about as much as the captain could stand.
He took two steps forward, drawing even with her. Without looking over, he could feel her quick glance upward at his face before she returned her attention to the western sky, searching for any sign of their ride.
Now, Rogers, he told himself, and acted.
Very deliberately, and with the most casual air he could possibly conjure up, Steve reached across the couple inches that divided them, wrapped his hand around Peggy's icy fist, and slipped them both into the capacious pocket of his army greatcoat.
Peggy must have jumped six inches. She jerked, startled, trying automatically to reclaim her hand, but he tightened his grip briefly.
If she really wanted him to let her go, he would - but he'd much rather she stay where she was and let him warm up her fingers.
He could feel her eyes on his face again, and gave in to the temptation to look down at her. Her eyes were wide, surprised, shoulders stiff with defensive alarm. Steve prepared himself for a fast right hook - he'd seen what she did to men who made moves on her.
Still, this wasn't supposed to be a move, not like that. This was just - well. Her hand was cold, and he wanted to fix it.
Unexpectedly, the line of Agent Carter's shoulders slowly softened. He couldn't read the gaze that she directed up at him - but after a very long moment, she relaxed and turned back to her vigil, watching for the plane. Her hand stayed in his. Then it loosened, ever so slightly, and turned to let him fit it more comfortably in his own.
Relief and something else thumped hot and hard in the captain's chest, and he let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. He scooted just slightly closer until the folds of the coat hanging loosely from his shoulders hid their indiscretion from view. Standing shoulder to shoulder as they were, it would take a close eye to notice they were holding hands. Then he followed her lead, looking up into the sky, though at that moment he wouldn't have noticed a plane if it had been bearing down upon him.
Peggy's hand was quite warm by the time their plane arrived, significantly late and trailing smoke from a shot it had taken. Her cheeks were flushed too - and when she finally withdrew her hand from his, she gave him a grateful nod and a look that sent the blood flooding up his neck and into his ears.
"Much obliged, Captain." The words were formal. The tone of her voice was less so.
Steve shrugged, shuffled his feet. His hand felt cold without hers filling it. "Can't let our best agent get chilblains," he managed at last, and immediately realized it was probably the most prosaic thing he could have said.
It didn't seem to bother her, though. And later, once they'd reached their destination, he found her hand slip into his without warning.
Peggy became much worse at keeping track of her gloves after that.
Steve didn't mind at all.
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Hello! I wanted to contribute to the Tumblr Steggy Week 2018 celebration this year, because: 1) I've enjoyed other peoples' contributions in the past, so I feel like I can repay in this way, 2) I have a ton of little snippets of things on my computer that I'll never flesh out but would love to give a home, and 3) I need to get back into a regular writing habit and thought this might be an enjoyable way to do so.
I don't have a Tumblr account, so if anybody feels inclined to share this story and tag it appropriately so other Steggy Week fans can find it, you have my permission to do so!
See you tomorrow!
