Carling's Diner, while a terrible place to get a burger, was capable of providing an excellent cup of coffee. Learning of Captain America's romantic woes, Sam had decided to put off his much deserved rest, and gulped down the hot liquid as Steve simply nursed his own mug.
"I think I was overdressed." Steve mumbled.
"Did you button up your jacket?"
Steve nodded his head to the affirmative.
"Yeah, that is overdressed. So, you showed up in a buttoned-up two-piece. Is that what ruined your evening?"
Steve looked down into his mug and ran the tip of his finger on the edge.
"No."
"Hhh. Alright, talk me through it."
"Well, I took her to this place called Apollonia's. You know it?"
"Yeah. Didn't think it was your scene."
"It's alright. I had dinner there with a reporter from Vanity Fair a few months ago."
"Right. So what happened?"
Earlier
Steve wasn't as nervous as he thought he would be; which was to say he wasn't gnawing on his finger nails at the moment. He'd picked Sharon up at her place. She wore jeans and a black sweater over a maroon shirt. She looked casual, yet classy, and he suddenly felt overly stuffy in the suit and tie he wore.
Now at Appollonia's, a trendy Italian place, he thought that it was going pretty well so far.
The day after he'd asked Sharon out, he went to Philadelphia on one of his regular visits to Gabe Jones. Gabe and his live-in nurse Noreen were kindly enough to put their knowledge of the past and the present together to think of quite a few pointers on social faux-pas to avoid, stuff like not ordering his date's meal on her behalf, as what little he knew about dating probably belonged to the forties. He'd managed to avoid them all. Now all he had to fill the time until the food arrived and not make an ass out of himself.
He just hoped Sharon was the talkative type, as it would take plenty of pressure off of him if she was.
"So how did you end up joining SHIELD?" he asked. That's always a conversation start, and he was actually curious.
"I sort of fell into it, I suppose." She began, "I went to university with a vague idea that I wanted to be a writer, so I studied literature, but that lasted a mere semester. I switched majors a bit and graduated with a degree in psychology. I didn't know what I wanted to do with my life, so after a period of loitering, I decided to join the police service.
"I did fairly well at training. A few weeks before graduating I was introduced by my supervisor to the head of the Britain station of SHIELD, Commander Hart. His people liked my profile and Hardy offered me a job, and I accepted. I put in the leg work and moved here around a year ago."
"Wow. That's…"
"I know, not much of a story, is it?" she laughed, "Good thing I didn't end up being a writer."
"Not, it's amazing." He said with sincerity, "Are you saying you were almost a cop?"
"Almost. I decided that the prospect of traveling the world more exciting than pounding a beat around Fenchurch. Of course I didn't know I would start out with assignments to places like Madripoor."
"Well, it's not what I expected."
"What did you expect?"
"I don't know. I thought you were a legacy."
"A legacy?"
"Yeah. I thought your folks might've worked at SHIELD. Lots of soldiers and secret agent types get in that way, or at least they did in my day."
"Did you?"
"Well," Steve said, considering, "My dad was a soldier, but… No. I guess I didn't. I meant no offense, ayway."
"None taken." Sharon said, "I've got family who'd served in the military or intelligence, but none in SHIELD. No, my parents were barristers."
"What do they think about what you do?" Steve asked, and for a second was proud at how well he thought he was doing. If Bucky and the boys could see him now.
"Not much. They died when I was four…. Airplane crash."
"Oh, god. I'm sorry."
"It's alright."
"What happened then?" Steve asked cautiously.
"I went to live with my father's cousin Jackie. She and her partner practically raised me from then on."
And so, with the mention of Jacqueline Falsworth, it all started to get rocky. It's funny, he never met the woman, nor did he even know what she looked like, and he only knew what he'd learned through Gabe; she's Peggy and Jim Falsworth's daughter, their eldest of two. Her mention caused much of the doubts he had about his fledgling love life to resurface.
Not only was he dating Peggy's near-identical lookalike, he was dating the one that'd been raised her own daughter. It all seemed so terribly Grecian. Such thoughts that he was trying to find a surrogate for Peggy had occurred to him before, and Gabe, who's judgment he trusted, had said it was just anxiety. On his calmer states, Steve himself realized that he didn't long for the courtship with Peggy that could've been; Peggy had a long, full life with Falsworth. Steve was happy for them both, and his interests at present were geared toward Sharon herself.
But that wasn't the real problem, it was whether he should tell her of the feelings he once had for Peggy, and how soon. The immediate problem, of course, was that as he was having these thoughts, the conversation had stalled and the awkward silence had got to Sharon.
"But enough about me." Sharon said, "Tell me something about yourself."
"Huh?" Steve sounded, taken off-guard, "Like what?"
"Well, what did you joined the Army?"
"Nothing."
"Nothing?"
"Yeah… Pretty much. After high school, I had a string of jobs, nothing interesting or permanent."
"Like what?"
"This and that."
"An example?"
"Hanging wallpaper."
"Didn't you paint?" she asked, somewhat exasperatedly.
"No. I remember the money was better, but the fumes were too much for my health."
"What? No. I didn't mean… I meant paint artistically."
"Oh. Oh! Yeah, I did that…. Yeah."
And then he didn't elaborate any further about his artistic pursuits. Perplexed, Sharon went on to ask if what sort of recognition he got for his work. His answers were as short and less than satisfying as before
Now
"Oh, okay." Sam said as he got started on his second cup, "I see where it went wrong."
"You don't."
"Sure I do. You couldn't make conversation anymore, and you ended up suffering through periods of awkward silence mixed with forced idle chit-chat?"
"…Okay, maybe you do."
"It happens to the best of us, big guy. You need to work on it, though. Women like a talker."
"Yeah, well, that was the start of it, but it wasn't really it."
"Oh. So what was it?"
Earlier
Finally, mercifully, the food arrived.
"Oh, I. Am. Famished!" Sharon said as their waiter placed the paste on the table. Steve knew it was less hunger and more the desire to be rid of the awkwardness.
Now
"Oh, I see!" Sam said, "I've seen Sharon eat when she's really hungry. She looks like a seal having a seizure."
"I wouldn't know. We didn't actually get to eat."
"How come?"
"Well, I'll tell you."
Earlier
Just then, there was an explosion out in the street. The explosion large enough for the tables and glassware and windows to vibrate and for panic to arise. Steve was quick to get to his feet and rush for the door before the crowd.
Now
"Wait, a seal having a seizure? Really?" Steve asked.
"I was exaggerating for effect, Steve! There was an explosion? And I'm only hearing this now?"
"It wasn't that serious."
"Compared to what?"
"It wasn't a terrorist attack, if that's what you're thinking. Just an armed robbery. It all turned out okay."
"You're still as erudite a conversationalist as you was with Sharon. What the fuck happened?"
"Some heist crew wanted to rob a Stark Industries subsidiary of some brand new tech. They got what they wanted but it didn't go smoothly from there. They were in a police chase and crashed in the street outside Appollonia's. One tried an R-P-G on a squad car while they were trying to make their getaway. Luckily, they didn't get a kill."
"And then what happened?"
"We stopped them. I mean… Well, we helped. The credit really belong to the NYPD on this."
"Sure. 'We', being?"
"Me and Sharon. It's a good thing she remembered to bring her gun. I didn't have my shield, but I managed. So anyway, we got the tech back and apprehended the crew. So, getting back to me and Sharon…"
"Sure." Sam said exasperatedly, "That clearly is the more interesting thing. Alright, so you ended up intervening in a police chase. I can understand how that would've been what killed your night."
"No. Actually, it took the edge off."
Earlier
"Credit where it is due, Steve," said Sharon as he she returned from talking to the police Captain on the scene, "You know how to show a girl an interesting time."
"What's the situation?" Steve asked, having come back from talking to reporters at the NYPD's request.
"The police are ready to cooperate and acknowledge our jurisdiction. Tony Stark's flying in as we speak and Hill's put me in charge here, said the case might be mine and Sam's by tomorrow."
"Do we know who the perpetrators were?"
"They're an international crew of some renown, but this is past their usual ambitions. I'd wager they're working for someone big. We'll know once they've been interrogated by Coulson."
"You did good, there." Steve said, "You're so much like Peggy."
"Peggy?"
It was a slip of the tongue, one he regretted immediately. It might've been brought on by the thrill of the fight and the knowledge that it had ended as best as could've been hoped for, that had let him put his guard down.
"Oh, you mean my great aunt. You knew her, didn't you?" Sharon asked with a smile, "Right. You worked together before she married your lieutenant. I only met her once before she died, when I was too little to remember, but she sounded like an extraordinary woman from everything I hear. I'm flattered."
Steve was looking into her eyes, and she'd been looking into his. Within seconds, there'd be a very specific glint in them and she would notice.
"Actually, Jackie's often told me I look a lot like her. Is it… true?"
And just like that, she put two and two together.
"Oh god." She mumbled, not quite mortified, but not really pleased either.
That was it, he thought. That was as far as it would go.
"I'll take off." He said as he turned around and began to walk away, shame and guilt creeping on him, "Good luck on your case."
Now
Sam stared at his friend with wide-eyed disbelief, his coffee mug hovering halfway between the table and his mouth.
"You… And her great aunt?" he asked, a timber in his voice indicating he was somewhat upset, as he lowered his mug.
"It's complicated."
"You were engaged?"
"No."
"But you were in love."
"I think so. I was."
"And you never paused to think what a dick move this is? Jesus, Cap!"
"I know." Steve said with a pained expression as he stared at his mug.
"I mean when were you going to tell her? When you were in bed? Is that when you would've told her you'd also nailed her identical great-aunt?"
"I was going to tell her, alright? Probably tonight, if it didn't slip out first."
Sam grunted in distaste as he leaned back in the booth, looking out into the street outside.
"For what it's worth, that isn't something that would've been an issue."
"It isn't worth much." Sam asked before turned back to Steve, "Wait, what is?"
"I never slept with Peggy."
"Well, you dated her. Didn't you?"
"Well, not exactly… No."
Sam gave a look of confusion and raised an eyebrow.
"To be completely precise, I did kiss her once. Well… Technically, she kissed me and I reciprocated, but I was on my way to get myself killed, so-"
"You didn't go for lunch together?" Sam asked.
"Sometimes. Just, there were always a bunch of other people with us. Bucky or Howard usually."
"You never went dancing, or met her mom and dad, none of that?"
"No."
"Well then your date got shot in the ass for nothing."
"What are you talking about?"
Sam sighed as he leaned forward.
"I'm sure this Peggy Carter was a great girl, and if she's anything like Red, she must've been. If you'd made it to see the war end, the two of you might've got married and been happy together. We'll never know. But I'm sorry to say this, but what you two had … It isn't worth ruining this with Sharon, if you really were interested in her."
"So you're saying…" Steve began hopefully, "It isn't ruined?"
"Oh no. It is ruined. I'm saying you went about it completely the wrong way. You shoulda told her you used to have a thing for her great-aunt from that beginning. Actually, you shoulda told her months ago. Chances are, she would've been cool with it."
Steve picked up his mug of now tepid coffee and drank it all at once.
"When you see her for work tomorrow, will you tell her I'm sorry?"
"No, Steve. You're gonna have to tell her yourself."
"I am, aren't I?"
"Never gonna hear the end of it otherwise. You better do it fast, too."
"Why?"
"Women talk." Sam said, "About everything. If you want to avoid a lot of funny looks, you'll have to talk this through with her soon."
"Isn't that a stereotype?"
"Believe me, she might've told her gal-pal Natasha by now. Hell, she might tell Chief Hill, and she doesn't even like her."
"I don't think a lot of people do like Maria Hill."
"I know. I don't. I mean, what the hell is her problem?"
"It's twelve, gentlemen." The manager said, "I'm closing up."
Sam and Steve got up, paid, and walked out of Carling's.
"Probably didn't think it was me you'd be walking home tonight, did you?" Sam joked as they walked toward his apartment building.
"Sam, how forgiving do you think Sharon is going to be?"
"She'll be forgiving, don't worry. But forgiving enough to want to go on a second date?"
"I know." Steve said, burying his hands in his pockets, "Might as well expect the sun not to come up."
"Well…. I don't know. Maybe, who the hell knows? First you need to straighten it out with her."
"Sam, you said it yourself, I went about it completely wrong."
"I know, and I'm saying you never know how the dating game ends. You gotta get out there, put yourself out on the line. That's the only way you won't end up alone. I don't want to give you false hope, but, theoretically, I'd say yes, it is possible that you and Sharon might still work… Somehow."
"How?"
"I don't know."
"Then how-"
"I said that I, Samuel Thomas Wilson, don't know. That isn't saying there isn't someone else might."
"Yeah, like who?"
Sam became silent as he thought about it. Steve took it as a sign that he'd been just trying to give him a ray of hope and resigned himself to that it was indeed over before it began with Sharon. And then Sam smirked.
"I know exactly who."
"Who?"
"The smoothest, player-est **********er we know. Someone who in his time had bent the will of beautiful women around the world with nothing but words, charm and confidence. Someone who-"
"Yeah," grumbled Steve, "I know who you're talking about. I didn't really want to go to Tony Stark with this."
"Well, I'm not talking about Tony Stark."
"Who are you talking about, then?"
"Phil Coulson."
Steve glanced sideways at Sam before he frowned, and said,
"You bastard. You had my hopes up for a second."
"I'm serious! You wouldn't know it looking at him, but Coulson's a stone-cold ladykiller."
"Coulson is married."
"So he's a retired stone-cold ladykiller, doesn't mean he didn't and doesn't have game. Besides, have you seen his wife?"
"I can't say I have."
"Well, when you do get the chance, google 'Millicent Collins'. Then you think about whether or not Coulson's stone-cold or not."
An hour later, back at his apartment on the Brooklyn Heights Promenade, Steve followed Sam's advice which still didn't believe. With his nightcap in hand, he turned on his laptop and wait for it to boot, then turned on his browser and typed the words.
Millicent Coulson, maiden name Collins, wasn't what he expected. She was a statuesque blonde who was obviously younger than her significant other, and just when Steve thought Sam had pranked him into googling a random socialite with no connection to Coulson, he found a picture of the happy couple at the governor's ball.
"Oh, Coulson," Steve mumbled, "You dog."
R&R
