Steve did not return to New York until several months later, when he was a super soldier who had been reduced to the star solider of the USO. Despite every smile he put on, every fake punch he landed on "Hitler" (whose real name was Frank, and he was really a very pleasant fellow), and every adoring spectator who gushed over him, this was truly the last thing he wanted to be doing. Well, aside from not serving at all; that would be hell. Every time he stepped into a theater, he felt just like the sketch he had filled several pages of his sketchbook with already: a monkey riding a unicycle on a very thin tightrope. This was all for...what? A couple of measly bananas? He supposed it should be fulfilling to know he was helping the sake of war bonds so that others could fight, but what did it really do? And god, what did Peggy think of him? He hadn't seen her since he started this blasted tour. Heck, he had only talked to her about the job once, but she was supportive and urged him to do it. Perhaps now that she had heard what it entailed, she realized she deserved a real solider.
All of the sudden attention from other women, however, was strange. The fact that he was no longer the short, skinny, frail man that women overlooked and shirked was still sinking in. He couldn't help but begrudge these women for their sudden interest. They were all so shallow, and they expected him to sway under their interest with a simple, breathy greeting. He may have looked like the type who would fall for that now, but he wasn't. He was reminded of the good doctor's words, how a weak man would know the value of power and strength. In a way, that applied to social situations too.
As he was leaving through the lobby after the matinée of his Buffalo show, he was bombarded by the usual post-show mayhem. Reporters, mothers wanting him to kiss their babies, children wanting photos with him, and a pretty blond who greeted him with an airy 'hi' after everyone had dispersed. He greeted her back with a smile – forced as usual – but before either of them could say a word, something caught his attention. The distinct sound of heavy shuffling, just as loud on carpet as it was on any other floor. He looked towards the sound and his breath caught in his throat. The same tweed dress from the expo that stretched over the same large, pear-shaped figure. The same head of frizzy brown hair. The same granite eyes – this time, even from such a distance, glassy with moisture.
"Moira?" he found himself calling without any thought. Her body went rigid and she made a run for the theater.
"I'm sorry, please excuse me," he said offhandedly to the blonde as he chased after her. His increased speed could easily allow him to catch up to her in a flash, but he jogged to see where she would leave him. She took an unexpected right turn and went out an inconspicuous door, leading outside. He found himself worried that he would lose her in the streets, but when he opened the door, he was in the large alleyway between the theater and the building to its right. Moira was leaning over, trying to catch her breath. When she looked up and saw him, she straightened right up and backed away. She looked as though she were staring down the barrel of a gun, her eyes misty. He looked at her fondly, staying in place so as not to scare her away.
"What's wrong?" he asked, as if no time had passed since they last saw each other. As soon as the words were out, however, he wanted to smack himself.
"What's wrong?" Her tone was enough of a verbal smack. She started laughing. "You never showed up to the dance. Promise-breaker."
He grinned at her, but as soon as she stopped laughing, her face returned to her terrified expression. "I see the posters all over. I, uh...I didn't wanna believe it at first, but I knew it was you. That damn smile o' yours..." She swallowed hard, trying to hold back her tears. "Goddamnit, Scamp, you're huge. I have to find something else to call you now. ...Jeez, does the army put magic into their weights or something?"
He smirked. "Something like that. This doctor developed this serum to create super soldiers, and...it worked on me."
"Mmm. Real-life science fiction." That managed to bring a smile to her face. "But...is this what a 'super solider' is supposed to be doing? Parading around like a puppet for the government?" Her mouth quickly turned down into a scowl.
"Well, no. But it's all I can do. Right now."
She stepped towards him, finally. "Applesauce, big Scamp. Wasn't all you could do before, isn't now." Her eyes scanned his face, then slowly moved down to his shoulders. He felt even more on the spot than he had after the procedure.
He half-smiled. "Gee, I missed you." He hesitantly extended his arms, and although she looked wary, she scurried right up to him and wrapped her arms around him, pressing herself against his chest.
"How's Bucky?" She was all-too hopeful, but she sounded like she already knew the answer.
"I haven't left the states; the farthest I've made it to the war is the training encampment. But I'm sure he's doing fine."
"Me too." She stiffened. "...This is strange." Her voice was wavering, and she laughed again. He tightened his hold on her, mentally agreeing. It was so strange being taller than her, and to feel her arms barely reach around his waist when they use to go all the way around. "Too strange."
He rose a brow and pulled away, holding her at arm's length. "What do you mean?"
She shook her head. "You're so different. I mean, I suppose that's a good thing and all, but...I dunno."
He gripped her arms gently. "Moira, tell me." A nervous feeling filled his stomach.
"I..." She sighed. "I had this stupid thought that I'd come here and you'd still be...you."
He chuckled. "Well, I am."
"No you're not." Her voice was so hushed a chill crawled up his spine. "You're not small. You're a walking American flag trying to sell war bonds, stage punching 'Hitler' and being danced up on by those share crop chorus girls. You're practically a sideshow attraction. The fat heads who haven't been shipped off yet still laugh at ya." She let out a shuddery breath. "No, it's not all you can do. Why aren't you doing anything about it?!"
Her words rammed into him like a brick wall; one brick at a time. "You think I can? My colonel can't stand the sight of me. A senator set this up for me so I wouldn't be stuck in the dark as just a lab experiment." Oh, he had raised his voice at her and he really hadn't meant to...
She scoffed. "If you had the will, you woulda done it already. That's just who you are. I mean, most everyone thought you couldn't get in the army and...well, you enlisted. Boom, that shoulda showed them. But this is where you ended up. Right back in the states; back in New York. Did you even wanna come back here? Really, man."
"Believe me, I've tried. I've worked harder than I ever have in my entire life at training camp. There were times where I thought I was gonna pass out, but I kept going because no one expected it. I threw myself on a dummy grenade! I've upchucked so many times I..." He trailed off at the sound of her trying to hold in giggles. "Sure, I was recruited just because I was a possible candidate for this, but I didn't know if I was going to even get it. I tried hard for me, Moira, I promise you; I showed them that I could go right out to the front lines and they still stuck me here."
She choked on a sob. "I read about how some mysterious muscle man thwarted a Nazi escape, saved a lil' kid, and used a cab door as a shield. Sound familiar?"
He blushed and looked down. "That was right after the procedure. He had been there the whole time...he caused an explosion, stole a vial of the serum, and killed the scientist who developed it – a very good man." His heart tightened. "Peg- ah, uh, Agent Carter, one of my superiors – managed to shoot him and slow him down, but he still got away, so I went after him and...well, you apparently know the rest." He rubbed the back of his neck. "A good test of the serum's effectiveness, I suppose."
She cracked a smile for a few brief seconds, then it was quickly replaced by another scowl. "No, stop. I'm frustrated with you!" She sighed, giving him a forlorn look. "If they saw you do that, then why aren't they puttin' you on the battlefield? The front? That all sounds incredible." Her voice cracked.
"They just see me as a lab rat; besides, a news hero has a better chance of selling bonds, apparently." He cocked his head to the side. "What happened to not wanting me to go?"
She forced herself to laugh. "There was no stoppin' ya; I shoulda known that from the start. But if you are gonna serve, you might as well do it where you want to be. Where you deserve to be. Rather have you incapacitated 'cuz of a gunshot then you pullin' something from lifting that motorcycle with all those dames on it. Not that I want you to get shot at – god, no – but it's more...manly, y'know? Not that it really matters, it's all awful in war, but I...oh, never mind." She grabbed his hands and squeezed them tightly, trying to familiarize herself with how big they were. "I do miss the Scampy Steve; mostly how I was than him. But I really shoulda known better than to think your brain got all meaty too. I doubt the damn Nazis could poison and wash it if they tried."
He chuckled and pulled her closer. "Of course I'm still me."
"That poster for your tour, though...I dunno what it is about that face you're making. If you think you're looking earnest, you're not doing a good job."
"I think I looked very sincere." He laughed. "It's not even really me, it's an artist's rendition."
"Well, the painter did get that baby face right." She patted his cheek, her hand lingering there for a second. "I miss your art. It's the best art."
He squeezed her hand. "No..."
"Hush up." Her hand returned to his cheek to slap it. "You make the most normal things beautiful, man. Like...that one time you drew me." She folded into herself and went entirely red.
"I just draw them the way they are, really. There's beauty in everything if you look."
She was looking at him intensely, the same way she did the night of the expo. She moved even closer, then blurted out, "Who's Agent Carter?"
He blinked. "Agent Carter? She heads up the infantry. She's very, er, professional." He pulled on his collar.
"Didn't know women were allowed to do that anywhere. Good for her." She pursed her lips. "It is a she, right? You didn't have a speech slip up? Though I don't know a lot of guys whose names start with 'Peg'. Or commanders that go back 'Peg'." She pulled her arms away and crossed them over her chest.
He adopted a sheepish expression. "We're friendly, I suppose. She's very...compassionate. She was there during the procedure, and she's been looking out for me." His eyes glazed over as she entered his mind. Her commanding voice, tantalizing red lips, steely gaze, hourglass figure, soft waves of brown hair...
"You like her," she teased, although her tone was snappy. "I see it in your face. And from what you're saying, she likes you back. She must be a great lady."
Steve flushed entirely, shaking his head. "I don't...I mean...I'm not sure. She's just...the first woman to really be able to look past the frailty and see me."
Moira's face instantly fell and she pulled away entirely. "...Is she. Really." Her voice was devoid of emotion. "There's never been any other gal whose given ya the time of day?"
He blinked. "Of course I know you have. I've just never had a woman really feel for me."
"Are you a damn fool?" She started laughing crazily. "Dare I say it, Captain, you're a damn fool."
When anyone else called him 'Captain', something inside him lifted. When she said it, it felt like a punch to the gut. "I...okay?" He wished he had something more comforting to say, but the sights of her like this made his brain scramble.
"Okay? That's all you have to say?" She pulled at her hair.
"Well I apologize, Moira, but you've neglected to tell me what's wrong all of a sudden!" He ran a hand through his hair and sighed.
"Geez, you're oblivious to everything." She took a deep breath. "This whole time...I've been in love with you, Steve."
The brick wall finally crashed down on him altogether. She...what? He searched desperately for something to say, anything, as she was now looking at him with such a vulnerable expression that he couldn't just be silent. "I...don't understand."
She snorted, shaking her head. "What's so hard to understand? Do you really not know how amazing you are? How you've always been?" She pressed her back against the wall of the theater. "I mean sure, it wasn't at first sight or anything – to me, you were the adorable little Scamp that I just wanted to stick in my pocket and take everywhere. Every thought that goes through your head, every opinion o' yours...it's fascinated me. I'm not too happy about hearing anybody but myself, lemme tell ya, even Bucky a lot of times. But I'm always lookin' forward to hearing you say things, no matter what. You're such a hit with my family, and that's real important to me. I mean sure, my family would give a meal and a cushion to sit on to anybody who isn't a fat head, but they can't talk to anybody much. 'Cept you." Her eyes filled with tears again. "And you're always so nice to me. You say I'm swell, and...you seem to think I'm pretty. I still remember when I asked you to draw me, and you just drew me the way I was, except...not, cuz I was so pretty, I dunno. And I was all 'why do I look like that'. And you just shrugged and said 'that's how I see you'. Just how you see me...Steve, I don't even see me like that.
"Chalk that up to bein' a good friend all you want, but that's just who you are. I never got the pleasure of having a friend like you – having a real friend at all. Meek Jewish girls don't take well to other girls who act more like a fella than their fellas. And I suppose bein' a friend should be enough, but I dunno. You are so handsome, then and now, and even more so when you're drawing and so concentrated, or when your jaw clenched whenever you saw a recruitment poster. I wanted nothin' more than to smooch every scrap, bruise, and frown off your face, because you don't deserve to ever be hurt. You don't deserve to lay your life down for a country that couldn'ta cared less about you. Now everyone does, 'cuz you're the picture of health. You're everything this damn country wants to be. But before? You were everything good about America; the everyday fella, down on his luck but doing everything he could and more to get somewhere better." She wiped at her eyes, the tears spilling freely now. "I don't see how anyone couldn't fall head over heels for you. I s'pose I was lucky that ladies here are so shallow." She hid her face behind her hands.
Steve was flooded with conflicting emotions. All of the odd things he noticed about her behavior suddenly made sense. Why she seemed so much fonder of him. Why she always found an excuse to touch him in some way. Why he often caught her staring at him so intensely. Why she was concerned with her parents' approval of him and her efforts to immerse him in her culture. Why she wanted him to stay so badly. Heck, why she so easily rejected Bucky's date for her and why she wanted to dance with him. She had feelings for so long and he never had a clue. He really was a fool.
But more importantly, what was he supposed to do? How was he supposed to feel?
With a sigh, he leaned in front of her and gently pried her hands away. "I..." He decided to say the first thing that came to mind. "If I would've known..."
She smirked, although her eyes were hollow. "No; no you wouldn't have. Agent Carter may not have been the first woman to feel for you, but she's the prettiest. You're amazing, but if you had your pick, you'd go with the pretty one who couldn't crush you." She smiled sadly and shrugged. "I'd never hold it against ya."
He frowned. "How can you say that about yourself?" He put his hands on her cheeks, brushing her ratty hair out of her face. "Moira, you're beautiful. You're the amazing one if you think all those things about me when none of them are true..."
She scoffed and slapped his arm. "Stuff it; this is no time to be modest."
He grinned and shook his head. "You're one of the best things that ever happened to me. You've got a heart as big as a building."
"Just like the rest of me." She sighed, pressing her left cheek into his palm. "Yours is much bigger. And let's not get into a pissing match over this, I'm right." Her eyelids started to droop; she looked almost serene. Only a moment later, however, her eyes popped open and she looked just as vulnerable. "If nothing's gonna happen, please stop touching my face."
Steve could not find it in him to tear himself away. He was drinking her in, in the way he often did Peggy. He took note of her plump lips for the first time, that could potentially be very soft. While her eyes were usually cold, up close they were endless and bright. And her cheeks were so warm...
"Steve, honestly." She put her hands on his to pull them off, but instead, just kept them there and laced her fingers through his. She began to lean forward, her eyes focused on his mouth. It was obvious – even to him – what she was about to do. His conscience screamed at him to pull away, that letting this happen was ultimately unfair to her. But when her lips pressed to his, he froze. He could not even blink. She urged further, attempting to open his lips, but that wasn't of much use. This was Steve's first kiss, after all; he wouldn't know what to do even if he initiated it (which he never would, for good reason). His senses felt heightened, however, and he took note of how her lips really were as soft as they looked, if a little chipped. They continued to urge, and he mentally scolded himself for not offering her anything in return after she so bravely admitted her feelings and acted upon them. But what could he really do? If he forced himself to kiss her back, then it would not be at all enjoyable, and it could lull her into a false sense of security. Not doing anything, however, was just as harmful. She was there, throwing propriety and her dignity away for a kiss that was amounting to nothing?
Just as he felt his lips began to mold into hers – not even consciously – she pulled away quickly. "I'm...I'm sorry." Although she was very flustered, it was clear her apology was not entirely genuine.
"Don't be." He rose to his feet and pulled her up with him – he was briefly surprised at how easily he managed to. She was always the one who picked him up. "It was...nice."
She snorted. "You didn't do anythin'!" She rubbed her eyes with her hand. "But I've wanted to do that for a long time, so thanks for not running away screaming, I guess."
He smirked and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. "Any guy would be lucky to have you as his girl."
"Right. Because all fellas want a fat Jew."
"Will you stop it?" He pressed her against his side. "If anything, that would be a...breath of fresh air from all the other dames. You'd constantly challenge them to be better men. And..." He sighed, trying to come up with a good explanation. "You'd get them. You wouldn't just go along with what they say for the sake of doing it so they stay with you. Heck, more often than not, you'll disagree with them. And they may not like that, but...well, it's still a good thing." He shook his head and ran a hand over his face. "This is much less impressive than what you said about me, I'm sorry. You're indescribable - in the best possible way."
He got a smile out of her. It wasn't much – little quirks at the corners of her mouth – but it was there. "Still the nicest stuff anyone's ever said to me. I bet you say even nicer things to Agent Carter."
He rubbed the back of his neck, smiling sheepishly. "Ah, not...no." He looked at her cautiously. "You're...okay with that?"
"Tch. I can't control what you do in Europe, even if I did have that right. If she's really as great as you say, then have a go at it. You deserve to be happy and all; more than everybody. I mean, that's really all I want for you – and to know that I had a hand in making that happen, even if it only involved me pushin' you to do it." She shrugged. He could tell that the words were painful for her to churn out, but they were genuine. "She just better be for real, because if she screws you over like the rest, I'll deal with her personally. Even if she could shoot me before I could do anything."
"Oh no, she's not like that, I promise." He couldn't help a chuckle at the thought of them having it out with each other. "But I don't even know when I'll see her again. This tour's not nearly over."
"Maybe she'll come out and see you or somethin'. She's gotta keep an eye on everyone she's superi-ating. ...And that's not a word." She chuckled. "You're going back eventually, right?"
"I'm touring to all the allied bases, trying to boost morale and such. She'll be there." He smiled slightly.
"Well there you go." She offered a smile of her own, but could not help a sigh. He took her hand in his.
"I would've been honored for you to be my girl. I was already honored to have you on my arm, even if it was just you helping me walk after I got the wind knocked outta me."
"Oh, please don't say that. That makes me feel so stupid for waiting too damn long." She laid her head on his shoulder. "Do you really mean that? Even if you hadn't known me like you do, would you? Are you really that good of a man?"
Steve was forced to think. Was he? He supposed he would fall for her personality eventually, albeit still be intimidated and off-put by it sometimes. But...well. It was true that being an artist led him to find beauty in everything, especially the simple, mundane things that everyone else took for granted. However, he still was a human being; what society dictated to be attractive tended to sway the opinion of everyone. Steve did like the women in the pin-ups, but women like Peggy – their bountiful curves, authoritative air, and intelligence – were really what he dreamed of. Moira was...not that. A pretty face was always a given in dreams, and although her features were soft, she was not pretty unless one really looked – although Steve always did, and he honestly did think her beautiful. She certainly was not the smartest person around, and the wisdom she often tried to impart to him was never very helpful. She was tough, sure, but mostly around her friends and anyone who really threatened them. Otherwise, she closed up, trying to seem as small and insignificant as she possibly could – quite the contrast to her always raging about who people should be more conscious of others.
It wasn't like he had any of those qualities either. Why should he expect so much if he could offer nothing special in return? Something began to gnaw at the back of his mind. Hushed words, in a familiar voice, insisting that he did indeed have everything special to offer, beating against his eardrums. Isn't that what it all boiled down to; being able to see everything that was special about a person when no one else could? Shouldn't that be enough reason to fall for someone? Did everything else really matter?
The theater door burst open, banging against the wall, and the very frustrated-looking store manager stomped halfway through. "Rogers, dammit, we've been looking all over for you! We gotta practice the punch scene before tonight's show. Some of the girls couldn't stop moving during performance." He disappeared back inside.
"He's just gonna come back if I don't go now..." He took her hand in both of his.
"No, yeah, I get it. You gotta work, I gotta go back home and work. Burned a hole in our pockets, me getting the train and show tickets. Bless my folks..."
His face lit up with an idea. "I'll see what I can do about the train tickets, but I'm sure I can get you and your parents to the New York City show for free. Please come."
Her expression turned sappy. "Oh, Scamp." She patted his cheek. "Only if you promise to answer my question then."
He stiffened, but still managed a smile. "Sure."
She got up on her tiptoes – wobbling a little – and kissed his cheek. "You have a good tour. And I don't care if you're overseas fighting or not, you start writing to me. If Bucky won't, you sure as hell have to." She wrapped her arms around his neck.
He wrapped his arms tightly around her waist, resting his cheek against her hair. "I promise I will. And you take care of yourself and send my best to your parents." Hesitantly, he pressed a long kiss to her forehead. He unwrapped his arms and pulled away, stepping back inside. He did glance over his shoulder to see Moira's eyes focused intently on his, er, backside. He instantly blushed, and when she noticed he was looking she quickly averted her gaze.
"I, uh, sorry." She started to walk away. "I'll be seein' you, Captain Rogers."
Her felt something shift underneath his belt. He reached around to his side and pulled out a folded-up photo. He opened it and was instantly taken back to a much simpler time, before the war had bled into his life. The picture was from the trio's trip to Coney Island. He, Moira, and Bucky stood in front of the roller coaster, their arms around each other. Bucky had a smashed corn dog sticking out of his mouth, Moira was laughing, and Steve had a half-happy, half-exasperated expression on his face that clearly said 'yeah, they're idiots, but they're my friends'. He felt another swell of emotions over seeing it – Moira was so sneaky, slipping it there. He headed back for the door, intent on catching her, but someone grabbed his arm and pulled him into the theater.