Chapter Seven

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Coulson's information regarding the Chitauri artifacts and dealers turned out to be invaluable. The scepter was still maddeningly elusive, but both Steve and Peggy were hopeful that the trail of alien technology would lead to it sooner or later. Surprisingly, out of all the Avengers, Thor agreed with them the most strongly.

"By itself, the scepter can cause great harm," he warned, shifting restlessly in his place beside the window, eyes fixed on the horizon. "But you people are curious, always seeking to try things beyond your comprehension, whatever the source. I dare not think what an inquiring mind could do with both."

As if drawn by an invisible string, every head in the room turned to Tony, who was nodding thoughtfully until he became aware of their eyes. Then he threw out his hands, bristling defensively. "What? Why are you all looking at me like that? I was just agreeing with Thunder Boy there."

As per the agent's request, Peggy hadn't told the Avengers who she'd got the information from, only saying that it was through a source Natasha had pointed her towards. She did tell Steve though, drawing him aside privately after the day's work was done. As the leader of their team, she felt he had a right to know.

"Anybody else alive that I should know about?" he asked after the initial surprise, running his hands through his hair with a sigh. He sounded bemused and more than a little exasperated, but Peggy couldn't miss the subtle way his shoulders relaxed. The captain carried so much guilt for each loss - it was nice to see a little of the burden lifted.

"Naturally. I expect General Patton to show up any day now," she teased lightly, reaching across, and won a grin from him as he folded her hand securely into his.

Clint popped his head in the door at that point, looking extremely confused and bristling in an oddly defensive manner as he held up his phone. "Does anybody know why some grunt-level SHIELD agent just called asking to speak to my daughter?"

Steve had to clear his throat hard to hide the inappropriate chuckle that rose up in his chest at the flash of surprise on Peggy's face before she tried to conceal it. She had forgotten all about leaving that eager SHIELD agent with Clint's number - and she'd never imagined the agent would assume the man answering the phone would be her father.

The archer visibly relaxed once she'd explained. Natasha, who had followed him in with a decidedly fierce expression, went blank-faced for a split second and then grinned dangerously. "Guess you sound like an old man over the phone, 'Daddy' Clint," she teased.

Clint stabbed a pointed finger at her face, eyebrows raised warningly before leaving the room. "Don't even start," he threatened - but Steve and Peggy could hear Nat laughing at him all the way down the hall.

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December in New York was cold - a wet, bone-deep cold laced with lights and the thrilling excitement of Steve and Peggy's first Christmas together in this new, post-war world.

Through some colossal good fortune, their enemies appeared to be taking a well-timed break. No illegal alien technology exchanged hands, no sudden attempts were made on anyone's life - even the stack of death threats that Pepper daily sorted through had shrunk.

They all knew it was just a matter of time.

Holidays didn't mean a thing to men who had world domination on their minds - their enemies were probably lying low and preparing for the next move in the game of strategy. Still, in between keeping an eye on the international black market and breaking up the occasional small ring of illegal arms dealers, the Avengers found time to celebrate. All of Stark's suits turned up wearing little red Santa hats one morning, Pepper decorated the main rooms, and even Bruce quietly draped a sprig of holly over one corner of his computer screen.

Tony himself went a more predictable route. Every doorway had a sprig of mistletoe tacked over it, most of them with cameras strategically pointed to capture any action that might happen. If he was trying to catch any of the Avengers in a compromising situation, it didn't work - Steve and Peggy adroitly managed to stay clear of every trap, and Natasha took pleasure in pulling down the mistletoe almost as fast as it went up.

Pepper did catch Thor, though - standing on her toes to kiss the startled alien on the cheek before explaining the tradition. Thor smiled politely, but afterwards examined the mistletoe for a long moment with something somber in his eyes.

"I swear those two don't kiss at all," Tony grumbled as he watched the camera feed of the captain and his wife steering clear of the mistletoe hanging above the refrigerator in the common kitchen. "Seriously, it's starting to worry me."

Bruce didn't say a word - only reached across and snapped off the monitor. The next day, Pepper made Tony take down all the mistletoe for good, going on and on about mythology and cultural sensitivity and workplace environment and - well, Tony didn't listen to all of it - but he did take the mistletoe down.

Clint especially seemed to get into the spirit of the season, gleefully coming back from shopping with an armload of gaily wrapped packages, which he promptly hid in his room. "Stuff," he responded, when Tony later tried to offhandedly ask about them. "Just stuff. Don't worry, Stark. I'm sure Santa has a nice lump of coal somewhere for you."

Thor brightened, passing through the room on his way to the gym. "Coal? What a magnificent gift, my friend. Your Santa must think very highly of you."

Tony stared after the alien as he left. "Wait, what? Is this another one of those alien-cultural-disconnect things? Does he even know what coal is?"

Peggy laughed, curling up on the end of the couch closest to the heater and trying not to shiver as she flexed her cold fingers. Something about poor circulation in the extremities, Bruce had said when she'd asked him about it - a common side-effect of frostbite, and apparently also being frozen for seventy years. "Speaking of the holiday, Tony, you seem rather in vogue."

Tony blinked, turned on a heel, and then yanked yet another Santa hat off the head of the Iron Junior unit he'd just been working on. Clint and Natasha kept sneaking them onto the robots' heads as fast as he could get rid of them. Peggy bit her lip to hide a smile at his annoyance, and changed the subject. "How many of those are you planning to make?"

Slightly mollified, Tony went back to the mass of wires he'd been untangling. "As many as we need to keep civilians out of trouble."

Peggy spread and rubbed her hands, trying to warm them. "You really need a new name for them," she pointed out. "Iron Junior sounds so - juvenile. Call it the Iron Legion."

"I am not calling them that," said Tony positively around the screwdriver in his mouth. "It's a terrible name. I like Stark Squad. Or Iron Peacekeepers."

Peggy shrugged carelessly and turned back to her papers, carefully concealing the amused dimples in her cheeks.

Two days later, Tony officially changed the name to 'Iron Legion.'

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The second week in December, Steve came home with a Christmas tree over his shoulder. It was green and fragrant, and scattered pine needles all over the floor as he wrestled it out of the elevator, much to Tony's annoyance.

"Sorry, Tony," Steve apologized, hoisting the tree back into a comfortable position on his shoulder and dodging the prickly branch that tried to stick him in the eye. "I'll come back and clean it up."

"Couldn't you have just got one that smells real and looks real and isn't a sticky fire hazard?" the billionaire demanded, standing well away from the bouncing greenery. "Pepper's got dozens - borrow one of hers."

Steve wasn't listening. He was looking past Tony with the expression he only ever got when Peggy had just come into the room. All the Avengers knew that expression by now - the soft, bright look in his eyes that made Pepper sigh contentedly and Natasha grin. Tony could joke all he liked about a torrid love affair between their resident spies, but everybody knew that the real lovebirds in the tower were Captain America and his intrepid partner.

"Since when have you ever cared about fire hazards, Tony?" Peggy demanded, addressing Tony but not taking her eyes off her husband. She had that look too - warm and sweet and very, very aware of her lover's adoration.

Tony threw up his hands.

"You two are so gooey it's making me melt," he announced, and stalked out of the room mumbling something under his breath about super soldiers carrying trees like they were nothing and giving people feelings.

Neither one watched him go. They were too busy looking at each other.

At last, Steve hefted the tree a little. "For Christmas?" he explained, though it was almost a question. "I thought – now that we're a family, we might want our own tree."

Peggy looked him head to toe, eyes dancing, and that one comprehensive glance was enough. They had never needed words to express their feelings.

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Pepper gladly loaned them some tinsel and a string of lights from the leftover bundle of decorations for the corporate levels of the tower. Steve, as it turned out, had a few ornaments of his own that he'd picked up, trying to celebrate past Christmases in this new time.

"I didn't really have much of a tree," he confessed, pulling the shoebox marked Decorations out of the top of his closet. "Found a little plastic one in a trash can - seemed too extravagant to get a good one for just me."

Peggy sorted through the small box, untangling the hooks made of bent paperclips and laying the ornaments out on the table as Steve wrestled with the string of lights. Her throat tightened a little as she imagined her husband gamely trying to forge a semblance of familiarity in a world where he felt so desperately alone.

"My mother loved decorating," she volunteered suddenly. She hadn't meant to say it, but handling these freely-shared tokens from his life made her want to give something as well. Steve looked up with interest. There was still so much they didn't know about each other, despite all their time together. "We'll have to find some holly for the mantelpiece before Christmas; she always had holly."

Despite the tinsel and the lights and Steve's handful of ornaments, the tree still looked rather barren once it was finished. Peggy stood for some minutes, tapping her mouth with a forefinger and watching as Steve meticulously adjusted the last few bulbs. Apparently the artist in him wanted everything to be perfect.

"We need to get a star," he pointed out, retreating to stand by her and examining the tree with a critical eye.

Peggy arched an eyebrow. "My family always had an angel for the top of the tree."

Steve's eyes and voice were very warm. "Sure, but I already have an angel."

It was sweet – one of those endearing things that he managed to say sometimes, and Peggy dimpled, settling willingly into the circle of his arms as he buried his smile in her hair for a long, tender moment.

The tree might be sparse, and their decorations few and far between – but they were together, and that alone made this holiday season wonderful.

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The week before Christmas, Clint and Natasha packed up and headed out of town for the holiday. Tony waggled his eyebrows and made salacious comments until Natasha lost her patience and twisted his arm up behind his back, whispering inaudible threats into his ear until he paled dramatically.

"When can I expect you two back?" Steve asked as Natasha finally let the billionaire go and sauntered casually over as though nothing had happened.

Clint shrugged, completely ignoring the cell phone Steve could hear buzzing in his pocket. The archer was taking an unusually large bag with him, compared to the small duffle he usually travelled with. The captain could have sworn he saw a stray piece of curling ribbon sticking out at one end, but before he could look closer, Clint had tucked it away. "New Years," the archer replied, the answer almost a question itself. "I think. We'll be in touch."

Steve stood near the window and watched the archer and assassin push out through the main doors of the building. Romanoff hailed a taxi while Clint finally pulled out his phone and answered. On the rare occasions the two of them took off like this, they never took Tony up on his standing offer of a car.

Everybody knew Stark had tracers in most of his equipment.

"Where do you suppose they're going?" Peggy asked as their friends heaved their bags into the trunk and disappeared into the morning traffic.

Tony scoffed, bouncing on his toes and gingerly massaging his chest. "You kidding? It's a torrid secret love affair between two super hot spies - probably Dubai or something."

Peggy threw him a very skeptical look, but refrained from commenting. Instead, she shared a concerned frown with her husband behind Tony's back. They both knew Starks well enough to understand that Tony wouldn't be showing any discomfort unless he was in serious pain. Perhaps Natasha had wrenched something when she'd manhandled him.

"Spar a little easier with him next time," Peggy cautioned the captain later. "He's not exactly a spring chicken."

"Neither am I," Steve pointed out, feigning offence, and she smacked his shoulder.

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On Christmas Eve, Steve contrived to get his hands on a sprig of mistletoe, smuggling it home in his pocket. Peggy laughed at him when she caught him wiring it to their ceiling light fixture and he shrugged, caught in a mix of pleased awkwardness that she found quite adorable.

"It's Christmas," he defended himself. "And, you know - mistletoe. Makes me think of you."

Peggy didn't laugh again, caught back briefly to a battle-riddled, mistletoe-laden orchard, the teasing of a lost friend, and the first hesitant brush of her captain's lips across her cheek. Instead, she crossed the floor and met him in a soft, slow kiss, sliding her arms around his neck even as his hands anchored securely at her waist.

"You do realize, darling," she reminded him at last, drawing back a little, "that it isn't quite Christmas yet?"

He looked down at her with something like reverent awe in his eyes even as a teasing grin tugged at his lips. "Yeah," he rasped, and then cleared his throat. "Might as well practice, though. I'd hate to disappoint my wife on Christmas day."

Peggy kissed him again, rather thoroughly – in the name of practice, of course – and then slipped out of his arms at the sight of a green tangle on their kitchen table.

"Oh, Steve..."

It was holly - shining, pointed leaves with red berries the color of the new sweater she knew he'd painstakingly wrapped in the biggest box under their tree. Steve Rogers was not a spy and never would be, but he had managed to completely surprise her with this little reminder of the past.

He grinned at her delighted pleasure, hands shoved deep in his pockets, shrugging a little. "Merry Christmas?" he offered, and she remembered all over again why she had lost her heart to this stubborn, endearing young man.

Together they arranged it on the mantlepiece, earning several painful jabs from the prickly leaves, and then settled down to string popcorn in an attempt to make their tree look a little more decorated. Despite all their best intentions, neither one had remembered to buy more ornaments.

"Peggy," Steve said later. They had long since draped the lengthy popcorn strands across the tree's branches, and now sat close together on the floor, backs against the couch as they ate the leftover popcorn and scrutinized the general appearance of their first Christmas tree. Christmas Day itself would be very busy, filled with church in the morning and obligatory appearances at various hospitals and charities after that, but tonight was theirs.

Peggy shifted against his side, tipping her head up to look at him. "Mmm?"

He looked down into her face, breathless at her beauty, trying to memorize the way the flickering firelight and twinkling Christmas lights reflected in her dark eyes. She was finally starting to get back a little weight again, after being under the weather for so long, and it relieved him immensely.

"Thanks for taking a chance on me. Marrying me, all this." Steve gestured vaguely, trying to take in the whole tower and all the occupants. "I know it's not the easiest thing in the world."

Peggy set her glass of eggnog down and drew away a little, turning to more fully face him. "I imagined you'd be worth the risk," she told him playfully, her hands finding his, entwining and holding tight. Then she sobered a little, face soft and earnest in the warm light. "Besides, I found the right partner."

Steve's heart leaped and stuttered in his chest. Then the clock struck midnight - and Peggy just had enough time to wonder at the mischievous light that sprung into his eyes before he wound a long arm around her waist and pulled her into his lap.

"Steve," she protested, laughing despite herself as he scooted backwards across the floor, still holding her securely. "What on earth do you think you're doing?"

The captain's jaw was set stubbornly. He always had been incurably dramatic. "If I'm going to kiss my wife on Christmas Day," he told her very seriously as he finally stopped beneath the mistletoe, "you can bet I'm going to do it properly."

He kissed her then, yearningly, and Peggy slid her fingers through his hair and kissed him back with all her soul.

"Happy Christmas, Captain," she whispered at last, and he caught her more closely against his racing heart and kissed her again.

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Hi, folks.

It is my policy not to apologize in my notes for my writing or timing. That being said, I am deeply regretful that it's taken me this long to get this chapter up. Life happened, and some new opportunities, and then a week where I lost access to the file and had to redo the chapter almost entirely from scratch - I could go on, but I won't.

Suffice it to say, that I've worked on this thing on a train, in several cars across two states, in a score of meetings pulled up beside my notes, and in bed before falling asleep, trying to get it to you. (By the way, now I'm curious. What are the strangest circumstances you've ever written under?)

And it won't take me this long to give you the next chapter. You all are the greatest people ever. Have a good week!

Oh - if you were confused by Thor's reaction to mistletoe, it's the plant that Loki made a dart from to kill Thor's brother Baldur, because it was the one plant that didn't promise to protect him. The story is found in the Prose Edda manuscript.

A Guest and Fan: Thank you! I've been sitting on that Coulson-meets-Peggy idea for a while now, and it was fun to do.

ChildofGod: Thanks! And yes - that radio program was dreadful. Which is a shame, because I enjoy listening to radio shows and they're not nearly that bad. (Although admittedly, my favorites are from the 1950's, so maybe they'd improved by then.) Oh, and I've finally started writing down the story from your first prompt and already nearly broken my own heart with the feels. :D