Ruby Hearts
All characters belong to Marvel Comics and Studios
{ Happy Birthday to JuliaAurelia}
Russia, February 13, 1946,
The flat ridges of ice lay serene, vacant, but the approaching shadows of early nightfall would soon fall upon the snowy terrain reeling from the purity of daylight. From a high perch surrounded by a mass of evergreens, Steve Rogers was crouched on a slant of ice, breathing in the coldness of air as it breached into his lungs. The last remnants of light flashed over the alloy of his shield, gleaming against the distinct red and silver paint. For the last hour he had bounded through the covering of the forest that bordered the Iron Ceiling, taking restricted routes while using the clear sky as his beacon. His mission was a combination of trust and fear at an equal measure—there was always an invitation of betrayal. Russian agents assigned by the SSR were unpredictable, always on the knife edge of protecting secrets that were effectively utilized by the gain of tyranny and olden vendettas. Steve knew that one of the agents was a traitor, he sensed the uneasiness gripping the older man's hand as a pistol sank into his clutch. He couldn't take himself away from the mission, the cost of lives were at stake. And he was prepared to deliver the charge of freedom.
Regaining his focus, his light azure eyes possessed a fierce glint as Steve set a stern resolve on the brick stone complex caught in his sharpened view. Its purpose served as a boarding school of young Russian girl orphans, a deceptive illusion to prevent leakage of secrets from bleeding out. His objective was simple: he had to rescue a psychiatrist and his son from Soviet officials.
Adjusting the strap of his helmet over the broadness of his square jaw, Steve latched his wrist through the leather straps of his shield. He rose to his full height, surveying the area, before he stole a glance over his shoulder, and nodded at Dum Dum Dugan to advance to his position. The bash ginger haired infantryman plodded through the mounds of snow with his reloaded rifle secured over his thick shoulder. "Right on time, Cap," Dugan said, looking narrowly down at the complex. "What do you think is really down there?"
"I dunno, but I intend to find out," Steve returned with evened breath, a grim smirk fracturing at his lips. His eyes grew alight with the same indomitable fire of storm that welled in his depths. In a few seconds he was battle hardened, feeling the air brush over his chiseled face, dousing the feverish rush. He waited for the Soviet agent to nimble a few paces closer; something had the man on edge, it left him wondering if the complex was housing a trap to ensnare him. He allowed those doubts to assail as he removed his compass, flipping it open to reveal the old newspaper clipping of Peggy Carter—his guiding star through the darkness of missions. He felt a sigh loosen up his throat. "Peggy is probably gonna give me hell for being late...After all tomorrow its Valentine's Day. That means lots of dancin'..."
"So, buy Peg a box of chocolates," Dugan responded with a hearty voice, gulping down a swig of whiskey. "We both know that's the only way to keep you from becoming a stray at Peggy's doorstep, Cap."
Always with the humor Dugan, Steve thought, offering his friend a thinned hint of his boyish smile."You know you're probably right about the chocolates, though. Maybe Stark has a stash of imported ones. Worth a good wager to my wallet..." Standing in a firm stance against the frigid lashes of cold air, Steve adjusted his helmet over his ruffled blond tresses and breathed in a wavering scent of pine. Feeling solid in the wake of advancing closer to the directive point, he managed to pull his lips into smirk and whisper out, before jumping off the edge. "Anything for my best girl."
Waiting for Steve to return seemed like drifting into the furls of eternity. Peggy didn't know what to expect in those unforeseeable moments when the world shifted beneath her; the stage lights dimmed into rosy tints of halos as golden haze mixed with encroaching shades of darkness.
Every vibration greeted her skin to the awake of the encompassing tempo. It seemed inescapable to evade, the constant thralls of worry grounded her, as she dared to stand in the middle of the dance floor, her dark eyes passively searching for a glimpse of him. Only silhouettes of swinging dancing couples twirled to the fast paced beat of the band caught in the stillness of her gaze. She felt nothing—just the absence of secured warmth from the empowering connection that seared her to the bone each time she felt the strength of his hands grace soft caresses over her skin. Those were phantom touches. A silent prayer traced over her burgundy painted lips as she felt the unwinding numbness recede, the stem of a red petaled rose was firmly grasped in clutch of her ineffectual fist. She had to allow the prevailing coldness to assail from her.
Tears blurred out the reddish haze of blissful happiness that almost felt like a performance to the daring heart; everything became unclear. She was grounded to the weight of uncertainty; absently enclosing her hand on the rose, thorns seemed to prick into her numbed skin.
Masking the intrusion of pain was all that Peggy could do as her stalwart exterior revealed fractures in those moments she stood alone; permitting the emergence of agonizing memories of detachment to steer her off course. Shadows of grief consumed her mind; those cherished and devoted times when she had danced with her brave and indomitable Captain seemed utterly unreachable.
"Come home," she whispered, with a bare hint of urgency. Her eyes flitted across the crowds, watching cut outs of paper hearts being stepped on by heels. Everything felt out of harmony, the reproach of fear came over her heart in reeling torment. She could barely gather up words to hold measure of a false hope. Colors of the room flashed in her eyes, red hues gleaming from steams of lights and prisms reflecting the softness of candles placed on every table.
Nothing seemed real enough to grasp, almost like she had fallen into a dream of intricate design, tonight felt vaguely unknown to wake up to. She had to rise above these impassable storms, and defy against the doubt that pinned her down each time her thoughts fell back to the moment when his voice faded on the radio. Doubt began to deform her heart, bleeding out desperation through intolerable voids for pain to relent. "Come back home, Steve..."
"Miss Carter," She faltered back a step to the crisp and benevolent timbre of Edwin Jarvis; he stood behind her, carefully avoiding a young couple brisking past them. He maintained a firm grip on a bottle of imported champagne which had been ordered by Howard Stark. His softened gaze of grayish blue focused on her distraught semblance. "Pardon the brash intrusion, but are you alright?" he asked with the slightest hint of concern.
Peggy blinked to regain clarity. She became composed and a tad dismissive to the butlers sudden intrusion. "I'm perfectly fine, Mr. Jarvis..." She issued out a terse response, trying to persuade him that nothing was wrong. She stared absently down at the rose, watching a few petals fall among tatters that belonged to paper hearts. Jarvis took a bold step, eliminating the space between them. "Is that Howard calling you?" "Indeed it is, but he can wait for another moment..." Jarvis returned pleasantry, holding her ireful stare. He didn't allow her to reclaim distance even though she was about to brush him off. A brazen measure of composer, he obstructed her view, standing at arm's length from her." I know you're waiting for Captain Rogers to return, but you must'in allow his absence to distract you from having a bit fun." There was assurance evident in his crisp baritone, a rather simple and genuine promise that Peggy felt penetrate through her revolting heart. She had to trust his words. "I'm quite certain he will be arriving shortly, Miss Carter."
Fighting against her own chagrin, Peggy roved an expectant glance at the table adjacent to the stage. Sitting in the middle, with a smug grin strapped on his face was the charismatic, reckless billionaire playboy that she had considered a close friend and ally during her elusive adventures with the SSR. Howard was occupied with a few glamorous actresses; a lanky blonde wearing a tightly fitted black dress was nestled on his lap, feeding him chocolate dipped strawberries, while the other, a tall olive skin brunette, was sipping champagne from the bottle and acting tipsy as she leaned against his shoulder giggling out random words. It was abolishing to watch, and yet comical at the same time. "It's absolute rubbish… Howard has no idea what actual women cherish in a man… He would rather just play the king on the bedpost, then ask a right partner if she wants a dance…"
"Indeed, Miss Carter," Jarvis spoke adamantly. "Mister Stark is fully capable of having one true partner, but he prefers living in the fast lane, so to speak." Peggy shook her head, dismissing out a few words that crossed her mind in that unnerved second her eyes drove intent on Howard. "Your employer must be dense in the head, if he allowed Maria to slip away..." Flustered by his arrogance and blindness to love, she pivoted on her spiked heels, refusing to waste another disapproving glance at his less elegant choice of company.
Taking a deep breath, she reserved the course of surging flares of enmity in her blood; and quickly discarded her elegance and poise to snatch the bottle out of Jarvis' hand.
She was becoming unraveled against the oppressive illusion her eyes beheld. "Howard must not value love..." She brought the glass rim to her lips, and took a fast swig of champagne; desiring to empty out the contents before it arrived to Howard's table. "He probably thinks it's some game that he can easily seek victory with his fat wallet."
"Miss Carter," Jarvis whispered out of courtesy, and tried to reclaim the bottle from her taut grasp. His tentative hand weighted stillness over her arm. "I think we better bring this to Mister Stark's table, before Captain Rogers arrives..." The vicious tempest of remorse assailed as his dissuading words pierced through. He was anchoring her back as she managed to hold his gentle stare. The unhinged tension was diminishing as she steadied her poise, allowing the darkness to slip way. "You wouldn't want to create an unladylike scene in front of this merry audience..."
There was no time to surrender to the shielding warmth that her body embraced. Under the layers of marble, Peggy felt the soothing heat of her friend lave over her exposed skin; a simple gesture of assurance that she wasn't alone to wait. Voluntarily, she clung to the absence of consciousness, allowing her mind to drift into the fathoms of contentment. It felt rebellious to remain indulged within Howard's proximity; red haze clouded her vision as she dared with graceful effort to recoil back, to catch the figures dancing in sync around her as the halos of light torn into shadow. The world hadn't stopped; a dance was waiting for her. The pounding of her heart reminded her never to give up on Steve—on the unfathomable hope that she harbored when they were apart.
"I suppose I haven't been acting like myself lately," she admitted belatedly, a compressed breath followed. Her brown eyes adjusted to the brightness that canvased over the floor. She steeled herself deciding not to reckon with the endless clashes of doubt and offered a beautiful, sultry smile at Jarvis, wordlessly telling him that she was alright to face this night without her true dance partner.
She needed to accept the possible outcomes that Steve would return from Russia late, but she also had him as backup—she always did. Enraptured by a thought, Peggy made a slow attempt to glide her hand down his arm, and interwove her fingers with his into a trusting clasp, that would only express her gratitude for having him as her dearest friend. "Would you care to dance with me, Mr. Jarvis?"
She needed to reclaim strength again, to defy her reservations and secure a new foundation of their blooming friendship. She owed him a moment of steadiness. Barely focused on the couples twirling to the loud tempo, she placed her trust in his hands, watching his lips set into a firm line as they became a breadth away—two hearts drifting from the silence of their world.
She wondered if he ever danced with Anna, ever the British gentleman that he was embolden to conserve, there must have been many cherishing moments in candlelight with her. Peggy had learned to respect his privacy that exhibited his devotion and committed love for his wife; as they equally shared an encompassing connection, it defined all their intrepid moments as hellbent partners and genuine friends and she waited for him to respond.
Jarvis accepted her request with the grace of a faint smile as his bright grayish eyes sought hers. The band was playing something at his natural pace of footing; he was comfortable to the rhythm pulsing in his ears as the bottle was eased down to the floor. At first, he was hesitant to begin the dance; it had been a long time since he had the freedom to chase the music. He valued this rare moment with Peggy, and understood the degree of her desperate attempt to claim a distraction while she waited for Steve. "I would be delighted to, Miss Carter..."
She smiled at his admission, and felt weightless to his calming touch. They didn't move. The music came to them as gentle waves with intermixed crescendos, everything faded out. She glanced passively over his shoulder; trying to disallow a pent of hopelessness to seize its full dominance. Steve was coming home. She had to believe in him. Closing her eyes, she clung to warmth, leaning against Jarvis' firm chest, as she sagged into the material of his tailored suit.
It was comforting for her.
A rush of the crowds pace compelled her to sway with the gravity beneath her. Howard's charmless jokes echoed with the gleeful bouts of laughter as the potent smell of whiskey filled the air. People took advantage of this night to delve in false pleasures that wouldn't last. She didn't set a resolve on them. Her eyes were bright and filled with vigil as she held onto the rose still clutched in her hand. It deserved special care. "I want you to give this to your wife, Mr. Jarvis."
"Miss Carter," he admonished, intently looking down at the offered rose. "Howard gave it you. It wouldn't be right."
"It wouldn't be right for it to be stomped on the floor either," Peggy coaxed with a simple brush of her cherry lips over the sleek edge of his thinned jaw. She didn't want him to waste another moment of avoiding his wife, not when Howard was on the verge of becoming intoxicated from the amount of champagne he indulged. She inevitably knew it was going to be a long haul of a night. She was reliving him from his duties, and giving him a chance to arrive home early. She looked firmly into his gray eyes, and freely allowed her hand to slip out of his grasp."You deserve to spend the last hours of this day with your loving wife, not being a waiter to Howard's calls. Consider this my payback with him."
"You are truly a remarkable woman," Jarvis expressed, giving her a light chaste kiss on the cheek in return. He tucked his hand into a pocket of his trousers and pulled out a small heart shaped boxed wrapped elegantly in red paper. Peggy lifted an eyebrow coolly, upon noticing the gift in his hand. "It would give me absolute pleasure if you would accept this small token from me."
"I-I..." Peggy was lost with words, but Jarvis opened her hand and gently placed the box against her palm. She managed to smile, trying to hold a few tears back. She resolved to opening it, delicately unfolding the paper; only to reveal a box of English chocolate truffles, one of the few things she missed from home. Each chocolate was wrapped in foiled gold, and the smell was heavenly to claim senses into submission. Sliding her finger over the heart, there were so many words she resisted to say, but she decide to give him a watery smile. He'd caught her off guard. "Thank you very much," she choked out.
"You're very welcome, Miss Carter," Jarvis mirrored her smile, looking behind her at a familiar chiseled and careworn visage of a strapping young man emboldened with distinct, patriotic colors: red, white and blue. He smiled to himself, keeping it a surprise from her."Well, I best be off, wouldn't want to keep Anna waiting for our dance."
Recognizing those fleeting sentiments in his tone, Peggy couldn't help but wonder if he was hiding something from her. His secretive demeanor only left her reeling with anticipation. She couldn't hold him back, not at that passing moment when a distinctive waver of heady mint enthralled her. Could it be? With a spin of driven certainty Peggy unceremoniously turned around to face the fogginess of bliss. Everything disappeared as her heart skipped a few beats. Then, she found him—her brave and handsome captain, he stood like a sentinel near the stairway.
The band started to the play his theme: the Star Spangled Man, people clapped as Steve waved back and they cheers for a few seconds. He approached the center of the floor with steadiness in his commanding stride, smiling brightly as a few of Howard's friends patted him on the back—treating him like a showboat as a few women derailed his paces, slamming tacky boxes of chocolates and books into the expanse of his broad chest; he smiled accepting the gifts and continued his trudge onward.
"Welcome back, Cap..."
Faint slants of stage light struck over the broad width of his shoulders as Steve made his way through the obstructing crowd, searching for her. When he neared Howard's table, he froze at the sight of his greatest love standing in the middle of the crowd, light shone through the curly tendrils of her chocolate hair, adding vibrancy to the pallor of her full shaped lips, the reddish tinge of her signature lipstick had washed against the melting wetness of tears. Her angelic visage of elegance and strength provided him with enough measure of assurance that they would charged through the raging storms together. She had raided into his heart once again. "Peggy," he whispered, breathless.
Faltering in his steps, Steve absorbed her full visage, shadow obscured his stern blue eyes as he traced over her pronounced curves hugging against the embroidery of red velvet of her favorite dress, the same dress she had worn during all their dances; it was a desiring symbol of their promise. His heart thundered to beats of the drums, and he dropped the gifts onto a vacant table; feeling torrents of fervid blood rushing in his veins. Tears welled in his eyes as his muscles constricted under the protective layers of his spangled uniform. He was immobilized, lost in the alluring depths of her shared gaze. Breath ceased as he shifted off balance, almost stumbling into the table to reach for her.
"There's my best girl," His voice, the soft cadence of Brooklyn mixed with the deepest of his baritone. He resumed a firm stature, the sweetness of melting chocolate lulled him to move forward. Peggy looked almost unreal to touch. He was almost there, but then froze in mid-step, realizing that he forgot his Valentine's gift for her. "Oh boy," he gritted his teeth, as he advanced past another wartime hero and his wife, trying to figure out what he could offer to his best girl. "Now, that's perfect...Her favorite color."
As Dugun's words haunted through the recesses of his mind; Steve dipped his blue eyes on a single lush rose. The red simplistic flower wasn't a gift to take. He had to ask politely when he approached the couple. "Excuse me, M'am," he addressed the older woman in timid volumes of a whisper. She acknowledged his forwardness in the instant a smile lit up her face. He swiped loose blond tresses of his slacken brow, and gathering up the words to ask."I-I was wondering if maybe I could buy that rose of you for my girl?"
"Captain," the woman returned, placing the red gently in his large hand. "It's yours free of charge."
Steve's eyes lit up at her kind gesture."Really?" he smiled brightly, nodding back."Thank you." His heart felt light in his chest as he continued on his way to her—his Peggy.
Each step was weighted, breath drew up sharply. Unbidden desire forced his intent gaze to fall on the beautiful and stunning lady in red standing in the midst of slow dancing couples. She had been patiently waiting for him. It was hard to fathom that he even deserved her love. They've endured many testaments, embraced strength and mended wounds that still left scars. With each measure of his strong heartbeat, it evoked Steve to fight against resistance and engage for his victory. One more step and he leveled with her; roughen leather boots aligned into a military stance.
"You're late, Captain," Peggy whispered in a soft and displeased variants. Her dark eyes casting for the tears visible near his white star insignia. A hint of a boyish, knowing smile tampered at his full lips, and his focused azure eyes glowed alight as he gingerly stepped over her shadow, looking at her with profound love and adoration. His gaze presented no lie of what she truly reflected back. He reached to take her hand, and she felt the rush of warmth merge over her skin. His lips part as the upper arch curved and a breath graced over her tensed face. He smiled so easily, without any recede of hesitation against the glint of ire in her eye. "You better have a good excuse?"
"Sorry, been struck in a boarding school with Dugan..." He whispered. His voice dipped into a rough pitch of exhaustion. "After an explosion and rescuing a few little girls, we made it out."
Peggy averted her dark eyes away, her heart grew leaden in her chest. She didn't want to know the details of his recon mission, but she detected a vague pause in his explanation. Something had haunted him back. His eyes displayed grayness of pain. As she glanced back at the white star embolden on his sculpted chest, she realized that he was carrying a new burden on his shoulders, charging into uncharted territory of the Soviet nation, not as a soldier who trudged beyond the barricades of carnage, the puddles of red, but as a virtuous man who gave it his best effort to help those wary spirits embrace a bit of hope as the battle raged around them. Distance was adamant in his eyes as she felt their souls aligning to the gentle tempo of the music. Steve stepped away the vestige of steeled authority and allowed his gaze to fall.
"That's not the whole story, isn't it darling?" she managed in a faint whisper; trying to set her sights away from streaks of tears as wetness sloped over the clenched edge of his squared jaw. A wave of unbidden anguish of the nightmarish revelation he beheld clashed against him. Steve refused to display the contrast of harbored pain in front of her. "Steve, what is it?"
All the images flashed in his mind tumultuous storm. Colors distorted into a macabre of red and silver. The menacing presence of the wraith he found captive in the underground chamber, haunted every fiber of his soul...
He had taken a far too high risk; but guilt plagued his resilient spirit and Steve had to enter the shadowy depths of the underground, and search for answers and the missing girls who he caught a glimpse of, twirling on a stage in the theater. He wasn't sure if his choice was a dare to the heart or just an impulse to correct the errors of his past. Only one thing remained intact, the unbreakable trust and devotion that was in the love he shared with Peggy. It was constant and steering him onward.
He'd been avoiding the light. For hours, he searched for the truth beyond the metal cages, everything seemed to appear vacant. He followed every direction, using his brass compass as guidance as he drove into the storm, drifting into the gray abyss, chasing lightning and feeling the rush of blood piercing through his heart. He used his grief as strength, pushing him further and deeper into the darkness, he had let himself slip away from the world, and spearheaded across the icy divides.
Even thought his spirit revolted to stand distant, Steve had reached the belly of the beast-HYDRA's base of operations, hidden beneath the layers of snow. Every moment was vital, guilt marked his restless soul with apparitions of utmost regrets. Steve couldn't escape the weaves of twisting doubt, the sense of abandonment that he felt when he stared into the endless white and listened to his friend's screams echo back a dismal chorus. He wanted to see Bucky smiling again, pat his shoulder with brotherly warmth that had been stripped down with death.
Crouching down, feeling the ice penetrate through his armed knees, Steve swiped his gloved hand over the steel door, and broke the latch off its hinges. He wasted no time, and climbed down the ladder fluidly with determination pumping in his veins.
Expecting a welcome, Steve prepared to engage, but instead he was greeted by darkness and the reeking sense of menace. Desperation pinned against his chest—reminding him that it was just another cold lead; there was no end of the road. He had entered asylums of false hope, risking everything to save the girls; he couldn't allow doubt to obstruct his mission—not this time. Blending into the shadows, he moved silently through the labyrinth of tunnels, the air was faint to his lungs as he pushed forward, bracing his shield against the sculpt of his well-defined chest. Blood rushed in his veins, every step was weighted with uncertainty.
Dim lights reflected into the fierce embers of his azure eyes, possessing indomitable resilience, while currents of unbidden rage pulsed into his muscles as he walked through the bowels of the chamber. With no radio signal, he was alone to face the nightmares that beckoned him to brave another stride closer to the hazy beam of light. His boots dragged over the grated ramp as gravity inclined against the measure of his strength. He reached a cement door powered by hydraulics and water pressured pipes.
It automatically opened in the awake of his presence; masses of darkness enveloped over his massive form, but the shades receded as he cautiously advanced to the center of a dome like tunnel. Light polished his helmet and chrome star, leading him to an area of medical equipment and operating tables. Smears of blood were still present. He was being pulled into the depths of HYDRA's butcher shop, wires contorted over steel poles, the stench of distilled water hung thickly around drains embedded into the floor. He honestly didn't know what to expect—but his gut instincts knew that something was alive in there.
Right at that braving moment, as he inched nearer to wall of crates, Steve caught a haunting glimpse of an immobilized body trapped into weaves of active wiring. His face drained into ashen paleness, and his shield dropped with a loud clang.
"Bucky," he gasped, breathless, unable to process the harrowed sight of his friend propped against metal frames of droning machine that rotated with charges of electric surges. Bucky was almost unrecognizable to regard, strapped down, fully dressed in black combat leather, his grayish blue eyes were maniacal and devoid of life—almost soulless against the harsh light shining over him. His face darkened by that metallic face plate and wolfish mane disheveled and soaked with remnants of ice. He was being thawed out and recharged. His broad visage was robotic, deaden and frozen.
...NO!...
At first, Steve didn't want to reckon himself with the grim and shattered truth that HYDRA had recaptured Bucky and forced him to submit to their control. He detested that pain instantly, and tried to gather himself up—there was still a chance to fix the damage.
"Hang on, Buck," he whispered brokenly, scanning his eyes over the control switch. He lifted up his shield and aimed it high at the wires hanging above the machine. "I'm gonna get you out of there...I'm gonna bring you home!"
Peggy had seemed to notice the shift of his emotions. She wasn't paying attention to that, only to his deep blue eyes, fathomless with rippled guilt. His towering stance faltered as he made an effortless attempt to ease his hand over her shoulder. His soulful blue eyes regarded hers with leveled trust, waiting for the perceived moment as his defenses were stripped down to diminish all of his vexations. He didn't want to ruin their happiness by unveiling the impenetrable truth that his best friend had been butchered down into a mindless drone that seared beyond the defiance that burned through his reserved heart. Nothing could shake him from it.
"I found something back there..." Steve released a heavy breath as his taut lips parted, and continued. "It wasn't human, barely responsive..." His hand folded into a rigid fist, he detested the reproach of horrors. Swallowing down his tears, his intensity regarded her with pain reflective in his blue irises. Everything had pinned him down. The immersed replays of memory held him captive as he felt the coldness seep back into his body. The deaden and metallic eyes of Bucky stared through his heart. "...almost dead to look at."
His confession was raw to produce; he wanted to fall to his knees and unleash his pain...The mission wasn't over. He had to go back and save Bucky, even if it meant a willing sacrifice to give his brother freedom. "We won the war Peg, got to go home, but we also lost something more valuable than a medal of valor." Peggy gazed up at him, trying to read his dismal expression. "I lost my best friend...Buck would be dancing with a beautiful dame on my left..." He couldn't purge that resentment."If I hadn't..."
"Stevie, why aren't you dancin'..."
He imagined himself looking over his shoulder, listening to lively and teasing Brooklyn drawls as it breached against his heart. Through the caress of light he would find himself staring at Bucky pacing up the stairs, wearing a black tailed jacket and white shirt, his brown hair sheared and combed to a boyish part. He would give Steve a broad smirk and Peggy a whistle before engaging a dame to share a dance. He would be happy and free to love. "Buck," Steve whispered in a short breath, trying to believe that the moment was real—not a dream.
The real Bucky was still trapped in an inescapable nightmare.
The world rotated as he and Peggy faced one another. She inserted herself by lifting a hand idly to clutch his shoulder. Muscles flexed in ease of her warmth as she held his stare. "Are you ready to start our dance, Captain?" she asked with hushed tone. She didn't know the extent of the unresolved war he'd been fighting, how much he endured overseas, but she wanted to give him peace, even if it was for one night. "We'll take it nice and slow, like always."
'Wait...I gotta give her the rose.' He remembered. "S'pose it's a little too late to give you something now," He slid a hand into a pouch of his uniform belt and removed the rose he had stashed away from her keen gaze, carefully presenting it close to her lips. "I wish I could give you more, Peg," he frowned deeply. Her hand brushed lovingly over his rough knuckles in acceptance. The need to kiss her was growing ever so relentless to suppress, he had to give her something more than just a dance.
Peggy cast a glance begrudgingly at the rose; it was definitely from Howard's assortment. She didn't want to accept the gift right away, he was all she needed. "Steve you didn't have to get this for me…" She curved her lips into a gracious smile, and sighed. "I'm just relieved that you made it home in one piece for our dance."
With a slow effort of her hand, she possessively curled her fingers underneath his shoulder strap, pulling it outward, as she gazed at him with imploring dark eyes. Her lavished red blades parted as she ghosted out a simple request. "Will you be my Valentine's partner, Captain?"
He chuckled lowly, slanting his lips into a sheepish grin. Breath was caught up in his throat, the muscles of his broad jaw clenched. He was going to dance with her. "Well, I've only got one partner," he declared with a tender play of a smile. He felt the wet heat of her lips trail reverently over the curve of his jaw; then came a tentative pulse rippling through them as the world faded into heated glow of sheer contentment. Her breath stroked over his flushed skin, the effect was dangerous as he stared into her loving dark eyes; realizing that this dream he shared with her was real. "She's the best partner I ever had..."
Peggy rested comfortably over his sculpted torso as her red silk dress wrinkled against the compression of fevered heat. Her arm effortlessly splayed over his uniform where the star was embossed, and felt the youthful definition of his solid pectorals charge with energy as she stared into the depth of his azure eyes, the vivid color that held an intense storm of devotion. Steve curved the fullness of his lips into boyish smirk; he was clearly empowered by her beauty and seductive approach to purchase his waiting lips.
Flecks of gold swirled in his eyes, dimming into a light wash of crimson as the volumes of music played to steadiness of the moment. He tilted his head, resting his forehead against the mass of her curls, breathing in sweetness of her scent as the serum pulsed fervently in his veins. He was there, a captive at the moment with her again, listening to echoes of band as she traced her thumb over the jagged edge of his cheek, feeling the skin lax against her caress. Friction tangled over her fingertips, radiating heat as Steve closed his eyes and wrapped his arm around her waist.
Peggy rested her cheek against the ripped material of his uniform, and the hard ridges of his muscles clenched with her breath; assuring her that everything was all right. He kneaded his calloused fingers through her hair. She brushed her lips over the star and enclosed her arms around his torso. He breathed evenly over her skin. They stood there, joined, unaware of the couples who followed them in a slow dance. They needed this. No distractions... No shield or pistol.
Steve knew the cost of sacrifice, the value of a woman's surrendering heart, and he was close to losing it all because he allowed the past to consume him. The serum gave him a chance to embrace a life with her, to let the searing coldness of the ice melt as her heart touched his. It had been a maddening process to endure; to carry out burdens...to deny the onslaughts of pain that riled through him.
Time had changed him, the gallant man he was on the battlefield never came back from the ice—he became someone different and fractured with discarded pieces that wouldn't be mended together. And he never expected Peggy to follow the unhindered roads he took, to willingly serve as his anchor through the raging tempests; she was more than a dance partner—her love prevailed during the direst of moments, and she never ceased to give up the fight for him. Every day was a new battle to win. He was a soldier fighting for liberty, justice, hope and love... It was his mission.
"So how do we start this dance?" He asked huskily, gathering himself up to take the lead, the corners of his mouth twitched into a hesitant frown. Peggy smiled at the dip of his voice, amused by the sudden falter of honest stammer. She took on the task, interweaving her fingers with the might of his clammy hand. She could almost feel runnels of his reluctance teeming, as they became the center of attention on the floor.
Steve watched his boots slowly move with hers; it felt less precise and more clunky when he didn't practice that much. Her fingers balanced on his biceps, his paces exhibited timidness as he tried to maintain a parallel stance with her. "I will spin and you catch me..." He listened to her give him the command. Gulping down, he geared up the mounting courage to extend his arm out, watching her svelte body whisk into a graceful rotating spin, natural and trusting.
The rhythmic pulses they shared matched the beat as everything slowed down and he was dancing with her, guiding her back as her dress grazed landed against his uniform. The heaviness of muscle as the softness of flesh solidified against palpable, infinite thralls of sheer excitement.
He smiled lovingly, giving her a glimpse of the restored peace he withheld. His soulful blue eyes were alight with the clearness of sky azure; he never lost sight of her as words remained captive between them. She glided with him, summoning all her grace and poise; taking in the beautiful moment as he held onto her. This was their night, an equal gift that wasn't hidden in a wrapped box.
"I love you."
With tentative motion, Steve brought his free palm to her face; reverent fingers brushed away the tousled curls off her cheek. Nothing was done fast, he took in everything with stillness in his regard. He steadied his hand along the curve of her back, holding her gaze, and then pulled her close enough for his jaw to carve into her cheek, as he whispered out a confession."I want you know that you're my best and bravest girl... Peggy Carter."
Her heart swelled at that. It was worth to believe in. "You'll always be..." A tear made its slow descent over her cheek, as she imagined him as that scrawny and ill Brooklyn kid, his broad and commanding features diminished into jutting cheeks and an angular jaw. He was the soldier she loved; the one who existed in his blue eyes and quirky smiles—the bravest and defiant soldier of them all. She would never allow him to become lost. "My brave, Captain."
With a heave of determination escaping from the back of his throat, Steve seized Peggy, dipping her to the floor as a warm tear meandered down his cheek and crashed their lips with fierce pressure of sensuous unhurried unison. Their locked kiss was ignited with vigorous surges of amplified currents scorching in their veins. Peggy felt boneless in his arms, tasting his lips melt against a heady enfolded of her upper lip overlapping his.
They were enraptured with the ravenous motion of unrestrained craves of hunger; breaths grew faint as their chests ached. He never lost her to gravity; his full lips claimed hers with a delivering force that bruised under his strength. Tears drenched through her ringlets as he recaptured the heat pulsing from her mouth.
As their lips fused together into another breathless kiss, Steve banished all tortuous and fleeting memories of Bucky and focused on her. In those moments of stillness he realized that it was love that his heart gave to her—it had become an irreplaceable gift. The emptiness of the void he reentered had filled, as the full swell of lips enveloped over hers into feverish rhythmic paces, chasing the fiery passion that had always been there.
It seemed almost daring...intense and giving.
Everything laid bare to shield over—the glow of lights shone over their bodies as heartbeats followed each deepening kiss—each breath of relief, as Steve fully released all his love—his heart with a locking and wetly collision of melding heat. He was completely lost in the passionate embrace of her sealing lips over his encompassing mouth. Right there, in that moment when the coldness in his veins receded; he just felt her kiss him back, nothing else mattered. No roses or box chocolates. All he wanted was her dancing with him, and then he got a taste of heaven. Nothing ever felt so perfect and real to release and capture.
No expensive chocolates or roses would compare to this—to him. "Happy Valentine's Day, my darling." She smiled against his lips, holding all the strength of Captain America into a frozen stance and kissed him.
Steve grinned back. "Happy Valentine's Day, my best girl."
The End.