Another drabble from Peggy's POV, set late in the season sometime before the finale. Warning: Peggy is OOC. Thoughts of Sousa but distinctly Steve/Peggy.
He was no Captain America, but Sousa was something. To Peggy, Captain America had always been a symbol rather than a man. To her, it was always Steve that mattered. The man had remained the same despite his impressive physical transformation. And that was what was important to her. She'd never planned on falling for him. It had surprised her how easy it was to give her heart to a man that she'd just met. One thing she'd learned from her relationship with Steve or rather, lack thereof, was that she would never give her heart so easily again. They'd shared a single kiss, and a dozen awkward moments filled with unresolved tension. They'd shared mutual admiration, attraction and a hope for the future beyond the war. And it had all been for nothing. Only for her to end up with a heart so delicate that one more blow might shatter it. She'd gained a respect for justice, for right and wrong. But sometimes her pride, her morality and principles were not enough to keep her warm when she was alone at night. They weren't enough to stop the nightmares brought by the war, nightmares where Steve's lifeless eyes accused her from where he rested in his cold grave. Sometimes being a woman of duty was lonely.
If she'd truly wanted to, she could have seduced Thompson or half a dozen of the other men in the SSR. She could have taken comfort from Sousa, gained his sympathy, manipulated him until he was hers, only hers. But the thought of it made her sick. It was Daniel she stayed away from. Daniel with his apologetic eyes whenever Thompson called her Marge, or when another of the boys made a derogatory comment about her bust size, or called their sandwich order to her without lifting their eyes to actually acknowledge her presence. Daniel, who watched her with warm, dark eyes, and a yearning that she tried not to see. Who complimented her without hesitation, and was willing to stand up for her, despite the derision he received from everyone else. Because if she acknowledged what his behavior hinted at, then she would have to push him so far away he would forget it, or grow to hate her. Because her heart was still fragile, because Steve swam in her thoughts and invaded her dreams, and she couldn't forget him. She didn't want to forget him, not yet, maybe not ever.
But if she was being completely honest with herself, sometimes she was tempted. Even to ask him for a drink, to lose herself in someone's company she actually enjoyed. She wanted to brush back the stray curls from his forehead, to smooth out the worry lines on his brow and tell him everything was going to be okay. And she wanted the same in return, a reassurance that she was doing the right thing by trusting Howard Stark, by running around with Mr. Jarvis, by hiding her entire investigation from the SSR. For her it was about companionship, about validation and esteem. It was about too many lonely nights in her room, trying hard to convince herself she wanted this life.
And for Daniel it was about so much more. He looked at her like Steve did in those early days of the war. She glimpsed a dead man's expression on his face and it haunted her. He could love her, or convince himself he did if she let him. He could dream of white picket fences, of kids with her eyes and his wavy hair. And the idea was too tempting. She was so much more than what the world demanded of her. But she was also just a woman, born in a time where most of them were led to believe that being a housewife was the ideal dream. It wasn't just a dream, it was life's goal for far too many women. It held a certain appeal to Peggy, even if she immediately rejected it with deep shame. What would it be like, to marry Daniel, to settle into a role she'd be ill-suited for? Horrible, boring, disappointing, and yet. It could be happy, satisfying in a completely different way than her work at SSR. To love him and build him up, to be his shoulder to lean on, to matter so much to a person that without you, they might lose themselves.
She had to shake those thoughts away, doing so with a wry grin. It was much too early for those kind of thoughts. In fact those thoughts didn't even belong anywhere in her vicinity. She and Daniel were acquaintances, coworkers with a certain amount of respect for each other. She couldn't even call him a friend. But she'd always had a habit of running through every scenario, however unlikely. She just wondered why it was Daniel that stirred these thoughts.
He was handsome, and kind. He was far less ignorant than most of the men she'd met. He had a nice smile, and beautiful eyes. He believed that she belonged in the SSR more than anyone, excluding perhaps Howard and Jarvis. He treated her as much as an equal as he could, with the occasional protective urge that she tired hard not to be offended by. His war injury didn't bother her in the least, actually inspiring her admiration. It was physical proof that he'd fought for what he'd believed in. But then she'd remember Steve. The silly butterflies he could create with a single smile. The respect she'd felt for him, and received in turn. The rapid beating of her heart with a hasty kiss, the crushing heartache she'd experienced when she realized that he wouldn't be coming home; that they'd never get the dance he'd promised. She'd felt so much for him and the tentative feelings she felt for Sousa paled in comparison. If she initiated anything now, he would be a replacement. And she could never forgive herself for it if she hurt him. She never wanted anyone to feel what she did.
Peggy Carter was sensible above everything. She was strong, and levelheaded and dangerous. So she shoved the lonely nights away and reminded herself that she wasn't the only woman in the world facing confusion, and closed minds. She was more than capable of caring for herself, both before she'd met Steve and after. It was only the possibility he'd presented that made her question a life alone. It was only Daniel Sousa's gentle admiration that made her wish that she was made a little differently. But she wouldn't risk her career on a possibility. She couldn't open her heart to more anguish. She was too focused on doing what was right, rather than what would give her comfort. Saving people was her life's work. It was that thought that would give her comfort on nights where the dark was a little too oppressive. It was her only option.