Mr. Agent Carter

(Shot Four)

So there they were, shivering on the front porch of a very nice house, Dugan looking over his shoulder as Peggy attempted to jimmy the lock on the door.

"I didn't know breaking and entering was your cup o' tea, Pegs."

"Oh pish posh. I'm doing no such thing. This is Howard Stark's playhouse, and I happen to know he is currently in Australia. And he and I are friends. He certainly won't mind this." The lock finally clicked. "Ah-hah! There it is. I've still got it," Peggy congratulated herself as the door swung open, "After you."

They walked into a small but luxurious foyer. Just then, the freezing wind picked up and closed the door behind them. Dugan sighed and flipped on a light switch. "Well, what now?"

"I don't know actually," Peggy said with a laugh, "Really I just wanted to see whether I could pick Howard's fancy lock while inebriated. And I'm proud to say I can."

Dugan started to look around. "Dang, this is a nice place." The wind howled and he glanced out the window. "And it looks like we got in just in time. It's a regular blizzard out there now."

She joined him at the window. "Blizzard might be a touch dramatic, but we jolly well can't walk through that. I don't care to anyway, not in these shoes."

"Are you suggesting we stay here?" Dugan looked vaguely uncomfortable. Whatever a "playhouse" was, he was pretty sure he shouldn't be staying in it.

"I feel sure Howard wouldn't mind. Come on. The bedrooms are this way. You can pick which one you like."

She started to head up the stairs. Dugan followed. "You sure know your way around the place," he commented.

"I've stayed here before."

He didn't reply.

"Oh, no," Peggy explained, "I used this place as a safe-house when I was working on the Leviathan case. Howard had fled the country at that point."

Dugan's smile returned and he rolled his eyes. "Ah."

"Here we are. What do you think? Does it suit you?"

"It's a little too nice for me, I think," he replied, stepping in and looking around.

Out of curiosity, he opened the wardrobe next to the bed. In it hung several costumes: a nurse, a policeman, some kind of strappy leather thing…

Dugan cleared his throat and shut the wardrobe. "Uh, on second thought, I'll just take the couch downstairs."


It still wasn't too late, and so they found a deck of cards and helped themselves to a bottle of sherry—though by now Peggy had regained a little sense and only took a few tiny sips from her glass. Nevertheless, the whiskey had already greatly lowered her inhibitions.

"Go fish," she said with a smile. As he drew from the deck and sorted his cards, however, her smile faded. "Timothy?"

"Hm?"

"Do you think any man will ever want me? I mean, I don't depend on it or anything, but…I don't really want to grow old alone."

Needless to say, he was surprised at her question. "Aww Peggy, what are you worried about? A classy dame like you? Aren't the guys clambering to get in line?"

"Not at all. Nobody's shown any real interest since Steve."

"That can't be true. What about that, uh…what's his name…the puppy dog—Sousa. I saw him making eyes at you, remember?"

"Daniel is nice. I'm not really sure I like him in that regard though…"

"Well, he's no Steve Rogers."

"No. But I don't want to compare all other men to Steve…Do you think that's part of the problem? Does the whole world see me as Captain America's girl?"

"Ahh well…maybe. I won't lie; that's the way I thought of it for a long time after he died."

She slumped back and sighed. "Well, I suppose my goose is cooked then."

"Now don't get all down on me. There's nothing worse than a sad drunk."

"Not even an angry drunk?"

He shrugged and smiled. "Well, at least angry drunks cause a bit of excitement."

She couldn't help but chuckle. "Well…I daresay it's time for bed. Or couch, in your case. Weather permitting, we still have to go to work in the morning."

He gathered up the cards as she stood and straightened herself. "Goodnight, Timothy." She patted his shoulder and headed towards the stairs.

"Night."

She knew she was a bit unsteady, and she tried her best to simply focus on making it to the handrail on the stairs. Alas, she focused a tiny bit too much on the handrail and not quite enough on her next step. And quite suddenly she was on the floor, and somewhat shocked to be there. Peggy couldn't help but laugh, however, when she felt Dugan help her to her feet.

"Golly, I must be a bit more snockered than I thought."

He laughed with her. "Yeah well, that's what you get when you try to outdrink the master."

He pulled her up, and as easily as that she was in his arms. Their eyes met. Peggy felt as though she were caught in some kind of limbo all of a sudden. She couldn't bring herself to pull away, and he wasn't letting go.

She kissed him. She didn't think about it. She just…wanted to. It wasn't an overtly passionate kiss, but it was genuine and on the lips. It was not the sort of kiss that could be laughed off afterwards.

When she began to realize that he was truly reciprocating, she pulled away suddenly with a gasp. "Wait, no. No, no. This could ruin everything, Timothy. You don't care for me this way. I'm like your little sister. It could ruin our friendship—"

He didn't let her finish, pressing his lips to hers again, much more firmly this time, much more passionately. One of his hands drifted up to her head, locking her in place. With his other arm squeezed hard around her waist, there was no way she could escape this kiss. It left her positively breathless.

When they finally pulled apart, they were both breathing heavily. Peggy leaned her back against the stairwell. Dugan hovered in front of her, his hand next to her against the wall, propping him up. For a tense moment, they just looked at one another and caught their breath, letting the situation sink in.

Then Dugan laughed. "Little sister, my foot. I've never once looked at you like a sister."


Hello my lovely readers :)

I hope you're enjoying my story. Feel welcome to comment/follow/favorite, just whatever you like. I'm having a wonderful time writing this stuff for you.

To the reader who's been good enough to comment thus far: I'm aware of the facts and theories surrounding Peggy and her man. However, this is fanfiction. I could pair her with Peter Pan if I wanted to. While I appreciate anyone who comments on my stories, I would like to remind everyone that there is a certain etiquette we should hold to. Telling a writer that her pairing is incorrect is entirely unproductive. The general rule here is that if a story displeases you, you simply stop reading it.

Now don't take me too harshly. Anyone who reads what I write is special to me. I'm not mad, and I do understand. But manners matter, and that's all I can say. The story shall go on.

I hope you all like this particular chapter. It's pretty much my favorite so far.

All my love.