Chapter 2: Ladies Things (Now Is Not The End)

Summary: If Steve were around during episode one, listening in and at the club.

AN: This was actually the impetus for the whole series. Just one little image of Steve after hearing what Peggy told Dooley and how differently he'd react. So, of course I had to take it a little further. Slightly longer than I planned. Enjoy.

The small microphone was uncomfortable, but this afternoon had been exactly why she had been wearing it. Peggy busted into Steve's apartment, tossed her small bag to the side as she shrugged off her jacket, and began unbuttoning her blouse.

He turned, his eyes wide with surprise and a tinge of lust, the typewriter left mid-word. "Peg- uh-"

A low laugh escaped her throat as she turned her back to him. "Not now! We've got more important things." Steve moved to her and began to free the small recording device from between the straps of her slip. If he let his fingers wander a little here and there over her skin she didn't seem to mind. "Pull this contraption off me and give a listen."

She pecked him on the cheek and turned, disappearing into the bedroom with her bag. "What am I listening for?" He slipped the tape off the recorder and slipped it on a larger player to listen, pressing a headphone against his ear. The technology was familiar to him from the war, and neither he nor Peggy had been surprised when Jarvis had given it to her. Steve was just as eager as she was to clear Howard's name, and it had given him a renewed sense of purpose that went beyond the four walls of his apartment.

"I slipped into a meeting just before I came home, grabbed a name and some details." Her voice was muffled, as if she were holding something in her mouth. "I was talking to Sousa about Howard not being able to swim just before, that should help you find it."

Steve bounced backwards through the tape, listening every few seconds. There were the city noises it had taken her to get here, then some conversations with Rose at the switchboards… he'd gotten good at deciphering people, even after only a day of listening to the small tapes that Peggy brought him.

"He can't even swim."

There it was. Steve listened closely, pencil in hand ready to jot down names and places.

"He tried to kiss me on VE Day. I knocked him into the Themes. We had to get frog men to fish him out." Of all the things Steve expected to hear on this tape, that was not one of them. He had the sudden urge to give Howard a good old right hook when he saw him next, but smiled at the thought that Peggy had already done it. "Something's up."

"Thompson's working on his next medal." Sousa. Steve generally liked the guy. He gave Peggy the respect she deserved, at least. "Got word of a fence trying to sell one of Stark's inventions. Club owner named Spider Raymond."

"Where's it happening?"

"Need to know only. Kinda gives you a warm feeling, doesn't it?"

"Do you need a refill?" Steve cringed just as he finished writing down Spider's name. He hated the thought of Peggy filling cups and taking dinner orders. She was so much more capable than that.

"Actually I'm still…drinking that." Steve chuckled. Peggy had done that to him a time or two, too focused on what she was doing to notice those around her.

There was clanking of dishware, and Peggy was silent on the tape. Usually after some show of silly domesticity required at the SSR she'd mutter under her breath, which made Steve smile warmly. This, however, was odd. He glanced at the bedroom, but she was still hidden by the half closed door.

He could hear she was on the move back in the SSR, the rustling of the dishes and the sound of a door gave it away, and the voices changed. "…get you some uniform backup." Dooley. Her supervisor. If he couldn't see that Peggy was as good a field agent, if not better, than any of the other clods in his department, then Steve didn't have any use for him.

"Too showy. Raymond's paranoid. The only things he lets slide are blondes and money. If we want to grab Raymond, and his buyer, with whatever it is that Stark is selling, then I go in light and fast. We want everyone feeling real comfortable. Two men, sidearms only." Thompson. Steve didn't like the man at all. He sneered at the tape.

"That what you did in Okinawa?"

"Sometimes. Other times we brought a tank. Figured we'd save that for later."

"Ok, Thompson, this is your play. Grinding beans over there Carter? This is field agents only." Steve's teeth clenched. If only they knew how much field experience she had, how she could run circles around them. Well, they'd see. He drew angry tornados in the corner of his pad, listening intently still.

"It's ok, chief. Let her stay. Maybe she'll learn something."

"Thank you Agent, I already have." Steve almost laughed. They'd given her, and him, everything they'd needed to know to go in and get this guy themselves, and yet they thought she was whimpering at their feet for tips on how to do her job.

"What do you really want?"

"I wonder if I might request a sick day?" Steve's emotions quickly did a tailspin as he listened; he dropped his pencil and held the speaker tighter to his ear.

"What's a matter? Got a headache?"

"Amongst other things. Ladies things."

"Aww, geez. Yeah. Sure. Take the day. Go shopping. Whatever makes you feel better."

"Steve!" He dropped the headphones as he stood. Peggy was behind him, had been at least for a bit. He turned, feeling caught even though she knew exactly what was on the tape, and even more so feeling protective. How dare she plan on going out when she was sick enough to ask for a day off! She was staring at him hard, a vision in a gorgeous silver dress a long, blond wing on her head. She'd scrubbed her face clean of make-up, and she was holding her dress up with two hands. "Can you do my zip up please?"

He gulped and nodded, his mind whirring a million miles a minute.

"You alright? I only asked you three times." She looked over her shoulder and watched as he gently pushed her wig's locks to the side.

"Yeah, yeah." He kissed over the two small bullet holes, something he did every time he saw them. "Just… thinking about what I heard on the tape. Got a little lost." He let a hand rest on her neck, hiding checking to see if she felt feverish in a gentle caress.

"Good." Peggy continued to talk as Steve slowly did up the zipper on her dress. "You've got to find something suitable to wear. And that beard, it had to go, or at the very least clean it up. Fun for out and about- but this is a proper club and you won't get past the bouncer with it as shaggy as it is now. The brown hair should be enough, but I've brought a few pairs of glasses to help sell it, just in case." She turned back to him when he'd finished, concerned at his half worried, half confused facial expression. "Steve?"

His words stammered out. "Peg, you don't have to go out tonight. I can go and you can stay here. Or we can go after Thompson's guys mess this up. I think I have a hot water bottle here somewhere…" Steve was off like a rabbit, his face bright red as he searched through his small kitchen's cabinets.

Peggy trailed after him, hands on her hips. "What in the bloody hell are you talking about? Of course we're going tonight!"

Steve kept digging through the cabinets. He slowed, though, deliberately not looking at her. "You know…"

She peered around, trying to get him to look at her. "No, Steve. I really don't." Peggy stopped one of his arms, and used a hand under his chin to turn his head to get him to look her in the eyes. He was beet red and kept darting his gaze away. "What?"

"You're having… ladies things… and you don't feel well." He pulled away and set to search in another cabinet, his mouth spitting words out faster and faster as he crouched down to look under the sink. "This can wait until you feel better."

"Steven Grant Rogers." His full name, said by her in such a firm, calm voice, made him stop dead. He turned and sat on the floor, looking up at her. "How long did we work together?"

"Well-"

She didn't let him answer; just set her fists on her hips as she continued. "And in all that time, did I ever use the words 'ladies things'?"

Steve ducked his head and rubbed the back of his neck. "Not that I know of."

"In each mission, each slog through the mountains or the mud or the snow, every run around the base at Lehigh, in any briefing or strategy mission you've ever seen me at, have I ever, ever once, excused myself for not feeling well?" She was calm, unnaturally so, even though he could feel some anger bubbling under her poker face.

"Well, that one time," He started slowly, standing up, "When you got sick right outside of Rhineland."

Peggy walked to him, setting her hands gently on his chest as she took a deep breath and calmed herself. "And what happened?"

"You threw up out the back of the jeep then proceeded to take down half a combat unit on your own." He shrugged, remembering the day with some fondness. He'd been worried about her, but it had been some bad diner the night before, and most of the guys were feeling off. Peggy was the only one who had gotten sick, but it didn't stop her. She had slept in his lap on the way back to base, though. Slept through almost 16 hours of transport straight after that fight. The next morning she was back at the briefing as if nothing had happened. "It was pretty amazing." In fact, he couldn't remember her ever missing a single day or meeting for anything.

"Those men wouldn't know amazing if it hit them in the face. They say they know me, but they don't. Because if they did, they'd know that…"Peggy tapped Steve's chest gently, prompting him to think.

"That you were lying." He smiled.

"Fib," She played with the buttons on his shirt, smirking devilishly. "Little one, not that they'd ever care to know." Peggy shrugged and sighed. "Dooly's never read my file. I can tell. If he had, he'd know that I'm much more than a 'liason' with that positively dirty inflection he gives it every time he says it."

"I know, Peggy." Steve leaned down and kissed her gently. "I just got worried. I didn't think."

Peggy smiled and gently stroked over his cheek. "I know. I think you're the only one who worries about me. I like it that way."

"So no hot water bottle?" Peggy shook her head at Steve's question. He smiled. "Good. Because this dress…" He whistled, his eyes softening as he leaned closer to her. "This dress is giving me ideas."

She let her nose brush against his, reveling in the thought of staying in for the night just once for only a second. "Well, keep those ideas for later, Captain. You've got to take me dancing."

He smiled, popping off a mock salute. "Yes ma'am."

Steve tugged at the collar of his shirt. He hadn't been properly dressed up in a long time. The starch in the collar felt stifling and the glasses, even though Peggy swore they were just glass, made him feel off balance.

"Quit that," she whispered, leaning into his embrace on the dance floor. "We're supposed to look in love, not like I've dragged you out of the house."

Steve laughed. "Haven't you, though?" He leaned down. "If that handler the SSR has on me finds out we're here tonight, you know we're both getting hauled in."

Peggy pulled her head back. "What? You want to go home?"

Steve wagged his eyebrows at her and leaned forward for a kiss. "Well actually-"

Her hand stopped his lips. "What did I tell you?"

"No kissing," he sighed, straightening up and looking around as he pulled her closer again.

"And why not?" Peggy asked, sounding like a rather frustrated schoolmarm.

Steve half smiled at her, his head bouncing back and forth. "I believe the direct quote is, 'I don't want to have to try to drag your sorry ass back to Brooklyn half conscious.'"

Peggy snuggled closer into his embrace. "Exactly."

The music swirled around them. Steve wasn't any good during the swings or the jitterbugs, but he was very good at holding her tight and slow dancing. The newly neat beard, the brown hair and glasses also worked far better than she'd thought- no one gave them a second glance. They'd made their way around the room, spent some time on the dance floor, and gotten a good lay of the place in no time flat. She turned her head quickly, Steve doing the same, just in time to avoid the club photographer's flash. It wouldn't do to get their faces caught on camera.

"You know, I really don't like the idea of you kissing guys willy-nilly like this." Steve whispered his thoughts in Peggy's ear as they left the dance floor.

"There's nothing 'willy-nilly' about it," she turned to face him as they found an empty spot at the bar. He waved the bartender over and ordered a drink as Peggy fingered the faux diamonds at her throat and looked pointedly at the suite upstairs. Anyone watching would have a very good idea of her next step, just like she wanted. Steve went to hand her the drink but she refused it with the wave of her hand just like they'd discussed. She leaned in close, giving the impression of giving Steve the cold shoulder with a hard look, even as her words had nothing to do with her countenance. "Believe me, I won't be enjoying it. It's work."

She walked away and headed to the staircase, clearing her throat and getting ready to make her move. All Peggy really knew in that moment, when she turned on her best American accent and charmed her way into Spider's suite, was that Peggy wasn't afraid of anything with Steve watching her back.