"Everything is always easy until it isn't." Tony Stark's words reverberated around in Steve's skull like a swarm of angry bees. He stared at the house in front of him, his hand clenched tightly around the handle of his duffle bag. He had lost track of how long he had been standing there; had it been minutes? Hours? He was aware that time was passing away from him, yet he could not make himself move, and he couldn't figure out why. Was it fear? Was he anxious? Was he nervous? He could not find an answer, could not find a reason to keep standing there like a fool.

Steve swallowed hard, straightened his shoulders and forced himself to take one step. Then another. Before he knew it he was moving up the sidewalk, his eyes never leaving the door. He climbed the two porch steps and raised his hand to knock, taking a deep breath. His hand fell once, twice, and then he waited... and waited. No one answered. He knew they wouldn't. There had been no car in the drive way, no lights on in the house. He suddenly felt very foolish for knocking and his ears burned.

"Get it together, Rogers." He chided himself. He moved to the side of the house and made sure no one was watching before jumping the fence with ease. He landed in the backyard and looked around, curiosity getting the better of him. The back of the house had another porch that was lined right rose bushes and shrubs. A small shed sat in the back corner with a fancy looking keypad on the front and he couldn't help but wonder what was inside. Unfortunately, he did not have time for such trivial matters.

Steve stowed his bag behind a thick cluster of bushes and hopped back over the fence. He looked around once more, making sure he hadn't been watched. He straightened his leather jacket, put on his sunglasses, and set off down the street. He walked for what seemed like hours but was really only several minutes. He had no destination in mind, yet he knew where he was going.

Steve found himself inside a bar, the bar. His eyes scanned the tables, but no one stood out to him, no one even looked at him. His heart sunk and he decided that he was wasting his time when he saw her. She was sitting on a bar stoolr her hands folded around an empty scotch glass. Her curls were thrown back over her shoulder and she wore the red dress that she had worn the last time they were in a bar together. Steve made his way through the near empty room, his heart pounding in his chest. He slowly sat down on the stool next to her, pulled his sun glasses off and hung them from the front of his shirt.

Peggy was oblivious to him. Her eyes were focused on the back wall of the bar, but Steve knew that expression all too well; it was one he often wore himself. She was somewhere else, seeing something else. He cleared his throat as the bartender walked over.

"Good evening sir. Care for a drink?"

"Yes please. Scotch on the rocks. And whatever the lady would like."

"No thank you." Peggy responded automatically, her voice icy.

"I insist." Steve turned to face her.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." The bartender warned as he grabbed a glass and sat it on the bar top. Steve ignored him and reached out to touch her wrist. Before he could even respond Peggy was on her feet and a pistol was under his chin. Her face was close to his, her eyes full of a fragile kind of fire.

"I said no thank-" Her voice died in her throat and she made a sound. She knew those eyes. The gun fell from her hand as she jerked back, stumbling over the bar stool. Steve caught the gun and set it on the bar top, careful to turn the safety on. Peggy was standing several paces from him now, her hand clamped over her mouth. He could see that she was visibly trembling and his own pulse hammered in his ears.

"Peggy," he said softly, his voice catching. She just shook her head adamantly, taking another step back.

"This isn't real." Her voice quivered. "This can't be real."

"It can be." Steve took a step towards her and stretched his arm out, holding his hand up, his palm facing her. She took a step forward and slowly reached out, her own hand trembling. As soon as she touched him her knees buckled and Steve closed the distance between them. She collapsed against his chest, a sob tearing from her throat.

"You're supposed to be dead. We heard the ship go down. We looked for you. I looked for you."

"I know Peggy. I know you did." He held her close as her shoulders shook. "I'm sorry I'm late."

"You're five years late!" She suddenly punched him in the chest.

"I probably deserved that." He smiled and took a step back, his hands on her shoulders. He looked her over and his heart did a flip. How long had it been since he had touched her? Since he had been able to see her face to face?

"Tell me how. How is this possible?" Her eyes searched his, her hands swiping the tears away from her face.

"You aren't going to believe me even if I tell you."

"After the cube? After Red Skull? After we turned you into...well, you? Try me." A defiant tone crept into her voice, one that Steve had sorely missed.

"What if I am really 90 years late?" He said slowly. Peggy was quiet for a moment, then made a face as the weight of his words sank in.

"Oh." She said softly. "Then perhaphs we should talk somewhere more...private."

"That would probably be best." Steve hardly finished his sentence before Peggy grabbed his hand and tugged him along.

"Put those on my tab," she called back over her shoulder as she drug him towards the door, a determined glint in her eye.

.

.

.

"And so that is everything. And here I am." Steve finished his story. He realized he had been leaning forward the last several minutes, his body tense from his tales. He had told her everything and he knew she wouldn't understand it all, because he didn't himself, yet he left nothing out. A long silence stretched between them and Peggy finally got up, pacing over to the window.

"That...is a lot to process." She folded her arms across her chest and looked out at her neighborhood. The sun was beginning to set and she shivered, suddenly cold despite the warm day.

"I don't understand it all myself." Steve admitted. He rested his elbows on his knees, watching her. Fear ate away at him. Fear that at any moment she'd run away screaming, or that she would be so freaked out by him that she'd want him to leave. But, she said nothing. The silence stretched long once more and Steve cleared his throat uncomfortably.

"Just tell me one thing." She finally said, her arms still folded, her back to him.

"Yeah?" Steve looked up.

"Are you staying?"

"If you want me to. I mean, I would understand if you want me to leave. It, uh, is weird. I know." Steve rambled. Peggy turned to face him and he was surprised to see she tears in her eyes.

"You still have no idea how to talk to women, do you?" She smiled and brushed her hand across her cheek.

"Not really." Steve admitted with a chuckle. He pushed off the couch and crossed the room to the old radio that sat on the bookshelf. It took him a moment to recall how, but he flicked it on and a soft melody filled the room.

"I'm glad." She smiled as he approached her, holding out his hand.

"I believe I owe you a dance, Miss Carter."

"With interest applied, I believe you owe me several dances." She ignored his outstretched hand and wrapped her arms around his neck, resting her head against his chest. Steve hesitated before holding her waist and they began to rock back and forth in a slow circle. He pressed his nose to her hair, the smell of strawberries filling his sense. Steve sighed softly, moving one hand to rest on her lower back.

"I missed you, Peggy. Not a day went by where I did not think about you."

"I missed you too Steve. I've thought you dead this whole time...they kept telling me I'd move on. That the pain would stop, but it never did."

"I'm sorry." Steve stopped moving and titled her chin up. "I would have been here sooner, but the world kind of needed me." He smiled, but his eyes were sad. Peggy laid a hand on his cheek and he closed his eyes, basking in her touch.

"All that matters is that you've arrived with time to spare." He opened his eyes as he felt her move closer to him. She held his gaze and touched her forehead to his, their noses brushing. She kissed him then, except this time it was not a rushedvgoodbye kiss. There was no sadnes, no fear in this kiss. Rather it felt like a hello and a promise; a promise that there were many dances to come.