Steve woke up the next morning feeling relaxed and happy. He wrote down some things he wanted to do for his and Peggy's day out. He got dressed and went upstairs to see if she was awake. He knocked on the window and peered in. She appeared after a minute, still in her pajamas, and unlocked the window.

"Terribly sorry," she brushed her hair out of her eyes. "I didn't think we were leaving so early."

"Oh," he twisted his hands. "What time is it?"

"Um…" she looked at a nearby clock. "Seven thirty."

Oops.

"Actually, I do have a question." She stepped back and let him inside.

"Sure, what is it?"

She hoisted her suitcase onto the table and pulled out her money, bonds, and treasures. I think I should try accessing my American account. I was in the United States since I was seventeen. And I opened up my own bank account without my aunt's permission."

"Why?"

"She was a greedy old buzzard. The royalty that went to America were often broke and I couldn't have her pawning off my treasures. That's for me to decide."

"Makes sense."

His eyes grew wider and wider as she laid out extravagant pieces of jewelry, bonds worth a lot of money even back then, and gold and silver coins.

"I also have a crest that will let me access my account." She produced a black velvet bag. "I saw James produce an identification card to get into a club. He knew the man and so I was let in."

"I have a friend who can set you up with an I.D." he said. "She doesn't do it anymore, but I think she'll make an exception."

She agreed to that. The pair gathered up her bonds and put them into an opaque bag to take to the bank.

"I'm going to make breakfast while you get dressed." Steve squeezed her hand and went downstairs, he stuck his head back in. "Wear pants- er trousers."

She did as he asked. After applying her makeup, she put on the new dark wash jeans and a blue sweater on top of a white camisole. She found a scarf in Tony's closet and wrapped it around her neck. She tied back her hair with a ribbon and slid on a pair of Tony's sneakers.

An hour later, they were on their way. She asked Steve what they were going to do, but he said he wanted to get her settled at the bank first before they went anywhere.

"You look great," he told her.

"Thank you, you look rather handsome yourself."

He shook his head. "You don't have to lie."

"It's not lying," she said. "It's looking at things another way. Just because you don't match up to what society wants does not mean you aren't desirable."

He found himself blushing a lot lately around her.

Despite the changes in the city, she easily remembered the way to her bank. She was certain her bank account might still be there. If not, she decided she would allow Steve to have the bonds in his account.

She trusted him.

Air, even colder than outside, rushed over them when they walked into the formidable building. It wasn't very crowded, so one of the clerks was able to see them right away.

He looked them up in down and quirked an eyebrow but didn't say anything. He led them to his desk and offered them water, which Steve accepted, but Margaret did not.

He sat down and placed his clasped hands on the desk. "So, what can I do to help you today?

"Yes, I would like to inquire about a bank account opened in 1873."

He blinked and chuckled "That's a very long time ago, Mrs…"

"Carter. Miss Carter." She looked at his name tag. Gideon.

Steve smiled. "You thought we were married?"

"Hush, darling, this isn't the point."

"Oh, right."

"Listen, Miss Carter," he got a condescending tone. "Accounts that old are typically frozen if there were no descendants and you would have to prove your were a descendant. That would imply an insignia of some sort."

"I believe this will suffice as long as the account has been properly managed," she said pulling out the insignia from its bag. She placed it on the desk.

He seemed at a loss for words. "Uh… let me get my manager, I don't think it will be there…"

"I'm fairly certain Alexander Hamilton knew what he was doing when he established a national bank. I- My ancestor did her research when using this bank, rather than setting up one in England before she left."

"Right." He scurried off with the insignia.

The manager burst in with a wide smile. "Oh, the Duchess of York was the only royal to use our bank, of course we kept it safe and sound for any descendants!" He shook Margaret's hand. "So, how can I be of assistance?"

"I'd like to reopen the account," she said.

"Okay, well, I'll believe you. I had to do some research on this to make sure it was correct and if you aren't the Duchess of York's spitting image then I'd eat my hat." He chuckled and reopened the account. "Would you like a card attached to the account?"

"Yes, please. I will be receiving payments very shortly and wish to have a place where I can deposit them," she said.

The manager opened up the account and allowed it a moment to adjust to inflation and accumulated interest. He choked a little when he saw the amount.

"Oh," she pulled out the bonds. "I would like to cash half of these in too if possible."

He took them from her and eyed them. "They look almost new!"

"I took care of them rather well." She replied simply.

His eyes bugged out when he saw the amount those were worth. He grinned and shook her hand. "Anything else I can do?"

"Yes, I'd like to attach him to my account," she nodded to Steve. "He shall receive a card and will get a monthly allowance. I will sign a contract so that should something happen to me, he will be the full benefactor."

"Really?" he asked, not expecting her to do that.

"Yes."

"Wow." He showed his I.D. and they both signed the contract. Margaret accepted the folder telling her all the benefits of her account and other accounts she could manage. She ended up having the majority placed in a savings account.

She was set up with a debit card with a mad amount of spending of $300 a day (until she could figure out a budget) and they were on their way.

It was mid-morning when they left and Steve finally revealed where they were going.

"If you're gonna live in Brooklyn, then you gotta experience Coney Island," he pulled out some change for the subway.

"It smells like piss," she commented. She gasped and latched onto Steve when there actually was a man peeing against the wall.

He gave the pair a dirty look, zipped up his pants, and went along his way.

Steve led her through a maze of stairs. A large tube roared by startling her. She thought the horseless carriages were monsters, but this took the cake. It was a train, but not any train she was familiar with.

A flood of people poured out of it. Steve grabbed her wrist and pushed against it. He collapsed against a chair and she sat down beside him.

It was crowded and it got warm very quickly. She pulled a lace fan out of her bag and used it.

Steve looked at her and snickered.

"What?"

"Nobody uses lace fans to cool themselves off anymore."

She snapped it shut and bopped him on the head with it. "I am very warm so hush."

He rubbed the spot even though it didn't hurt.

"So, Coney Island," she said. "I take it it's not just a neighborhood by the sea anymore?"

He shook his head. "Nope. It's great. Bucky and I had a lot of fun there when we were kids."

"Then, I look forward to it."

Soon enough their stop came. It now seemed that the flood was coming onto the train. Steve gripped her arm once more and pulled her out just as the door closed.

"I'm glad you came just in time," he said. "They're going to close it for the off season soon when the weather is too cold. It won't be too crowded, because tourist season is over as well."

"I see." She really didn't.

He continued to lead her along. Shortly after, she began to smell the sea and an array of tantalizing smells.

Steve paid for something and pocketed it as well as a roll of tickets. "For the rides," he explained.

She expected that when the weather was warm, it was very crowded.

"I was thinking the carousel might be best to start off with," he said.

She whipped her head around trying to take it all in. They passed booths that held food, booths that held toys, booths that held items that lit up and made noises.

She looked ahead and saw it. "Oh! I know what that is! In England it's called a roundabout."

"Cool, we're starting off with something familiar," he entered the tickets and got in line. They were allowed to enter with the next wave of people.

She hopped onto the nearest horse, excitement making her forget her manners. Steve hauled himself up on the one next to her.

She clicked her heels against the horse's haunches knowing very well it wouldn't move, but it made her think of her horse, which she missed terribly.

The ride started up with a whir and calliope music began to play. She laughed with delight as the horses "galloped" in a their circle. Children and adults alike sharing her glee.

The ride was over much sooner than she would've liked. She was even more disappointed when she found out rides were limited.

Her pouting lasted only a moment, before she was captivated by something else. They continued on several mild rides. Steve's heart condition alone would not permit him to do anything above. She was also a little concerned leaving their bags in cubbies, but after a while was not as worried when each time their satchels were just where they left them.

Margaret was thrilled nonetheless, for she had never experienced anything close to this. She now understood why Steve wanted her to wear jeans. With the way the wind blew any skirt would have become scandalous.

"Let's do this one," Steve pointed to one that held swings.

Swings. That was something she was familiar with. They paid the fair and found one that held two people.

"You be on the outside, I'll be on the inside," he said.

She agreed and they both sat on the red metal. Steve helped her buckle up and the safety bar was put in place and checked by the ride operator.

It started off slowly spinning almost like the carousel. A small jump and the ride began to pick up the pace, the center rising them up high in the air. The spun faster and faster until they were at a dizzying angle.

Margaret laughed with excitement. She followed a few of the others on the ride and raised her hands in the air. She imagined flying must feel like this, even though the weight of the safety bar pressed uncomfortably against her thighs.

When the ride began to slow down, she was a bit disappointed, but Steve promised they could ride it again before they left.

"So then, what shall we do next?"

He grinned. "Eat the most unhealthy food in the world. Fried food."

"Ah, like Scottish pan fried chicken?" She said. "I'd only had it once when my nanny made it for me. Mother was displeased but let it by, so long as it didn't happen again."

"Yeah," he chuckled. "There's a reason why we're going on the rides first. You have to try a corn dog, it's not made from dogs that's just the name. Uh… there is funnel cake, cotton candy, and… oh! You gotta try pizza. Afterwards we're playing games because you do not want to ride anything after eating. Also, you haven't had a pop yet."

"Pop?"

"You'll see."

When they reached the shops, delectable smells filled the air. She recognized a few from when they walked in.

She insisted on paying for the food, since Steve paid for them to come in. After loading their arms with the foods Steve recommended, they sat at a semi-sturdy table covered by an umbrella.

Margaret perused over the choices and chose the sausage wrapped up in bread. She put mustard on it and picked it up daintily.

There was no way to eat this daintily so she just bit straight into it. She couldn't describe the flavor. It was tasty yet… it wasn't. She couldn't stop eating it either. She wiped her mouth clean.

"Try this," Steve tore off a piece of what he called funnel cake.

She did. "That is the most amazing thing I've ever tasted!"

"Glad you like it."

"It's not exactly difficult to exceed British cooking," she said softly, almost as if she were telling a secret. "The British empire took over the world trading for spices and yet, they use none of them. It doesn't help that beer is added for flavor. I despise it."

"I can't drink alcohol," he shrugged. "No worries there."

They continued eating. The fizzy pop named Coca-Cola hurt her tongue when she first drank it, unfamiliar with carbonation, but she enjoyed the sweet caramel flavor. Her least favorite was the cotton candy, simply because it was sticky and got all over her hands and face.

Steve cracked up at that and helped her wash it off with wet wipes he kept in his pack.

Steve disposed of the trash they left behind and led her to the shaded area which held the contraptions that whistled, chimed, and thunked.

"Step right up! Win a teddy bear!" The employees not busy shouted out advertising the games in their station.

"Which game to you want to play first, Peggy?" Steve asked.

"How about that one?" She pointed to a hunting game. Tin animals flew around the "forest" and there were rifles attached to the booth.

"Sure," he shrugged.

"You going to win a prize for your girl?" The man said sounding slightly condescending.

"Yep," he said confidently. Inside, however, he was feeling pre-embarrassment. His astigmatism made aiming a little difficult.

The game began and Steve fired his shots, the laser missing any target. He hit a couple but not enough to win anything.

"Ooh, sorry about your luck buddy," the man said. "Maybe you should try the duck scoop."

"I think it's my turn," Margaret said, angry that the man was being rude to Steve, no matter how subtle it was. She paid and the ride started up. She aimed and hit all of the high score targets. Each one dinging and displaying her rising score.

The operator shrank and Steve's pride grew.

She took a deep breath and aimed for the fastest moving target. She fired and the whole board lit up.

"What prize do you want?" he asked, sounding defeated.

She looked at the giant plush animals. "Which one were you going to win for me?" she asked Steve.

"The blue unicorn," he said shyly. "You said you liked horses."

"I do like horses."

The game operator lowered it down with a hook and set it down on the counter rather than handing it to one of them.

Steve picked it up and led Margaret away. "There are other games."

"Hey," she stopped and made him face her. "I'm enjoying spending time with you. You don't have to impress me by— Oh, dear Lord!"

A loud siren wailing behind them interrupted her sentence. She held her hand to her chest her heart pounding.

"You'll get used to them," he assured.

They wandered around the arcade until two and Steve decided he wanted to move on.

So, they left the amusement park, hopped back on the subway, dropped their prizes off at the apartment and took Jarvis for a walk since the poor thing was cooped up all morning.

They decided to walk to the river. The sight made Margaret gasp.

"The world changed all around it, but Roebling's erection still stands."

Steve choked. "What?"

"It wasn't nearly completed in my time, but-"

"No." he interrupted. "Did you say erection?"

She was confused. "Yes, the bridge. Roebling's erection."

He bit back a laugh but his face ended up in a contortion where he might as well have laughed.

"What?"

"I'm sorry," he leaned against the rail and guffawed. When he finally caught his breath after a short coughing fit he answered. "Erection has a different meaning nowadays."

"What does it mean?"

He looked around and whispered in her ear.

Her eyes widened. "Oh!" She made a face. "Oh."

"Yeah, I mean. You're not wrong it just sounds… dirty."

"I see."

"Come on, let's go, we can bring Jarvis with us."

"Where are we going?"

"Central Park," he smiled at her. "I thought it might be fun."

"It's still there?"

"Yeah, we gotta take the subway to Manhattan."

This time, though the same setting as before, it went a little bit easier. Margaret knew how to push through the crowd and she read the map on the walls of the subway to memorize their route.

She was truly enjoying her time with Steve. The feelings she felt for her ex-fiancé was nothing compared to what she felt for Steve.

She slid her hand into his and he squeezed it in return.

Central Park was bigger than she remembered. The trees towered above her now. The park was a sea of yellows, oranges, and reds. It was very calming, the sounds of the city growing muffled the farther into the park they went.

The afternoon was spent there just with them talking about themselves and their lives.

"Honestly, I was really skeptical about you being from 1876," Steve admitted.

"I don't blame you," she said. "I find myself rather flabbergasted that I am in the year 2000. I feel like I am in a dream and the longer I am here, the more I don't want to wake up."

"Screw the elevators," he said. "If Tony tries to send you back, I'm not letting him. He'll have to fight me."

Overwhelmed with emotion, she pulled him in and kissed him full on the lips.

Uncertain with himself, he slowly rested his hands on her waist.

She broke it first and rested her forehead against his. "I've never done this before."

"Me neither," he said out of breath. "I don't think I've ever fallen for someone this fast."

She wanted to ask about Tony. She wasn't going to. She wasn't going to compare anything to his previous relationship. She was just going to focus on what was theirs.

"Why don't we sit down?" she suggested.

He agreed to that. "Mind if I draw?"

"Not at all as long as I can watch."

He cleared his throat and shifted nervously, which did not go unnoticed by her.

"Unless, you don't want me to."

"No, I just haven't had anybody watch me draw since high school," he sat down and pulled out his sketchbook and pencil.

"Come to think of it," she sat beside him. "I don't know how old you are."

"Oh, uh, I just turned twenty-eight."

"I'm twenty-one."

"What?" he adjusted his hearing aid.

"Twenty-one," she said a bit more clearly.

He heard right. "I didn't realize you were seven years younger than me."

"Technically, I am…" She counted off the top of her head. "One hundred and forty five… wait.. Minus twenty-eight.. One hundred and seventeen years your senior."

He chuckled. "Fair enough."

The hour before dusk was spent in comfortable silence. Rather than watching him draw, Steve just showed her his progress as he went along. For the last twenty minutes he wouldn't show her anything.

"Shall we eat?" She asked.

He slapped his sketchbook shut. "Food? Right, there's a uh… salad place by the apartment. I have to eat light for dinner, so I don't get indigestion, because that isn't exactly attractive."

"Steven," she rested her hand on his knee. "It's fine."

"Right."

They took a taxi, which Margaret insisted on paying for, compromising that Steve could buy them dinner.

The restaurant was more of a bistro. They only sold soups, salads, and sandwiches and, on top of that, had a different assortment each day. Luckily for them, they allowed dogs inside. The person behind the counter happily brought out water and some stale bread for the pooch.

After placing their orders, they sat at a table by the window and watched the nightlife start up. People still rushing to get to where they needed to be.

For the first time all day, Steve's cellphone rang. He apologized to her and answered.

"Hello?" He scowled. "What do you want Tony?"

…

"She's not a child, she's been just fine." he raised his voice.

…

"Peggy can make her own choices. You don't get to decide that."

…

He flushed and set his jaw. "Why do you care? You know what? I think I'm going to start looking for a new apartment."

He snapped his phone shut and slumped against the table.

"Is he truly that much of an ass?" she asked.

"No," his voice was muffled. "It's a front. He has a lot of problems and needs therapy for it. He's not a true asshole like Gilmore."

Their food arrived at that moment as well as a dessert item they didn't order.

"On the house," the woman said sympathetically.

"Thanks."

They ate in awkward silence, well, she ate. Steve just poked at his food. Margaret was never happier that meals didn't last hours anymore.

"What did he say that made you so angry?" she asked, curiosity piqued.

Steve sighed and gave up on his food. "He implied that… we were…" he made a few vague hand gestures that didn't say anything in any language.

"Intimate." She said.

He nodded. "Yeah. I wouldn't make a pass on you. Not that I wouldn't want to it's just I have a lot of insecurities. Not about… performance or…." he groaned and put his face in his hands. "Peggy, can we just leave now?"

"Of course."

Having already paid for their meal, they went ahead and walked the rest of the way to the apartment.

The temperature dropped quickly once the sun went down and both Margaret and Steve were shivering.

"I'll be down in a moment," she said, intending to give Jarvis his dinner as well as change into more comfortable attire.

"It's fine," he said, still a bit sullen. "Take your time."

She kissed his temple, which seemed to cheer him up a bit, and headed up to Tony's apartment.

Jarvis was thrilled when he got his dinner. Margaret set up the gate, so the little thing couldn't wreak havoc.

She thought about what Steve said, about what Tony said. Time be damned, if she only had a week to experience a lifetime with Steve? So be it.

Feeling confident, she climbed down the fire escape to go see him.