October, 1948

In which date night takes an unexpected turn.

"Thank you for a lovely lunch," Steve said, cleaning up the remains of their meal and leaning across the desk to give Peggy a kiss. "But I think I'd better be going. Looks like someone needs you," he said, nodding to the door. Agent Horst was standing in front of her window, holding up a file to indicate he had something she needed to see.

"Oh, good," she said. "I hope it's that witness statement we've been after. Sorry to rush you off, though."

"Don't worry about it," Steve said, scooping the dishes into the bag he'd brought. "Duty calls. Will this be a long one, or should I still plan on date night tonight?" They tried to keep a weekly appointment of going out for dinner and dancing or a show, though the day did move around based on Peggy's schedule.

"Actually," Peggy said, holding up a finger to indicate that Horst should wait. "I, um, I wanted to talk to you about that."

"Sure. Something up?"

"I think we'll have to cancel tonight. I got some intel this morning that needs attending to, and it's rather time-sensitive."

"Okay," Steve said. That happened sometimes. He gave her a smile. "I can eat dinner on my own."

"The thing is," Peggy went on. "Tonight's op is…not exactly official."

Steve arched a curious eyebrow.

"It's off the record, which means I shouldn't actually be going and I can't ask anyone for backup, but knowing what I'm going into, I'm going to need it." She looked up at him like she wasn't sure what he was going to say. "How would you feel about running a mission with me?"

Steve blinked in surprise, then nodded. "Yeah, of course." He frowned. "Did you think I wouldn't want to? If you need backup, I'm always going to be there for you."

"I know," she said. "I just…" She smiled at him fondly. "You came back to me six months ago exhausted. I know how tired you are of fighting; I didn't want to drag you into something—"

"Peggy," he cut her off with a smile. "I am tired of fighting. But I'm not tired of standing up for things that need to be done. And even if it's off the record, if you're doing it, then I know it needs doing. I would love to come with you tonight." He grinned. "Besides, you and me off on a secret mission? It'll be just like old times."

Peggy smiled. "I'll see you tonight, then." She leaned in and wrapped her arms around him, kissing him soundly. "I just slipped a file into the lunch bag," she whispered. "So you'll know what you're getting into." She kissed him again. "Love you, darling."

"Love you too," Steve said, picking up the bag and heading for the door. He nodded to the agents he passed on his way out, and gave Rose a cheerful grin as he left the building. Civilians were generally not allowed in the S.S.R. building unless they were being brought in for questioning or protection. But, along with all his paperwork, Rose had made sure he had the proper security clearance to come and go in the building, and since he didn't stick his nose into anyone's business while he was there (and since he was married to the Chief), no one really asked questions.

He grabbed a couple of groceries and dropped off Peggy's dry-cleaning on his way home, then settled down on the couch with the folder Peggy had slipped him before he left. He arched an eyebrow several times as he read over the contents. This ought to be interesting.

"Hello?" Peggy called a few hours later as she came through the door.

"Hey!" Steve greeted, coming into the living room to give her a kiss. "You want dinner before or after we go?"

"Before, I think," she said hanging up her coat. "We'll need to wait until it's dark."

They headed into the kitchen to make sandwiches, and Steve cut up some fruit. "Question about this mission," he said.

"Mm-hmm?" she replied, reaching over his shoulder to snag an apple slice.

"Why is Dottie Underwood an off the record case?" he wondered. Dottie had been a thorn in the S.S.R.'s side since 1946. "I would have thought this would be an all hands on deck situation."

Peggy sighed. "It should be. But it's an issue of jurisdiction. Some of her more recent crimes have put her on the C.I.A.'s radar. And, you know, it's Thompson. He's not going to give something like that up." Steve had heard a good bit about Jack Thompson, though he'd never met him. He was an old S.S.R. colleague of Peggy's who had been shot in the chest last year and very nearly died. He'd had to step away as Chief of the New York branch of the S.S.R. due to the lengthy recovery involved, and by the time he was ready to come back, decided a change of scenery was in order. He transferred over to the C.I.A. and ran a unit there now, and according to Peggy, it was a much better fit for him than the S.S.R. Peggy also claimed he was easier to like when she didn't have to work with him every day.

"Okay," Steve said. "So why isn't the C.I.A. going after her? I'm not trying to get out of this," he clarified. "I just want all the information."

"The C.I.A. isn't going after her because they don't have the intel," Peggy said. "Time would be lost getting it to them, and…well…" She shrugged. "It's their jurisdiction now, but it's my fault Dottie's out there in the first place. It's my mess to clean up." The S.S.R. had actually apprehended Dottie in 1947, but she'd escaped custody under Peggy's watch.

"Okay," Steve said, swallowing down the instinct to tell her she was being too hard on herself. They'd had that conversation before, and Steve understood the need she had to fix it. He kissed her cheek. "Let's go get her, then."

She smiled and they sat down to a quick dinner before going upstairs to change into attire more suitable for a night mission.

"Do want to drive, or should I?" Steve asked, heading for the garage.

"Neither," Peggy said, checking her side holster. "Plausible deniability. Our car isn't going to be anywhere near that office building. Mr. Jarvis is driving."

"Good idea," Steve said. He paused. "He's not coming inside, is he?"

"No," Peggy said firmly. "I've already told him as much, but he's going to try to talk you into letting him. Don't."

"I won't," Steve said. He knew that Jarvis had accompanied Peggy on several of her solo missions before, but he also knew the danger level they were heading into. He had no desire for someone he considered a good friend to get hurt. He smiled when Peggy didn't look as though she entirely believed him. "I'm only a pushover for you."

Peggy laughed, then handed him one of her spare guns and several clips of ammunition. "Now, ideally, we want her alive, but she's not getting away this time, so if it turns out the C.I.A. ends up getting her remains instead of Dottie herself, they'll just have to be happy with that. She's very good at hand to hand, and she's much stronger than she looks, so keep that in mind."

"Got it," Steve said, holstering the gun.

Edwin Jarvis did indeed spend most of the drive trying to convince them to let him join in the mission. Once they arrived, he agreed, a little unhappily, to wait in the car.

"Odds are good she'll know she's not alone before we see her," Peggy said quietly as she picked the lock of a door around the back.

Steve nodded. "Sticking together or splitting up?" It was a little weird not to be the one calling the shots—he hadn't been on a mission someone else had led in years (or possibly even ever)—but it felt right. It was kind of liberating, and if he was going to trust himself to someone else's orders, he couldn't be in better hands.

"Let's stick together until we get to the third floor," Peggy said, slipping inside, closing the door softly after Steve followed. "That's where she's supposed to be, and if we've not run into her by then, we'll split. She'll know someone's in the building, but if we're lucky, she'll think it's just me, and you can give us the element of surprise."

"Got it."

The building was quiet—normal for this time of night, but there was something off about it. Steve couldn't put his finger on it except to say it was his soldier's sense of hovering danger. The first floor was empty, and showed no recent signs of life—which it should have, given that this was a Tuesday and the place should have been bustling with people not three hours ago. Dottie did have a habit of…disposing of people whose space she wanted to use, but a whole building?

The second floor was clean as the first, and Steve hoped it was a good thing they weren't finding any bodies. "Not that Dottie would be above killing everyone in the building," Peggy said, clearly thinking along the same track as Steve. "But perhaps she found another way of keeping the place clear. A gas leak or something would draw far less attention than a building full of dead people."

They reached the third floor uncontested and split at the stairwell to sweep in from opposite corners of the building. Aside from people, Steve didn't find himself missing much from the future, but knowing how dangerous Dottie was, he wouldn't have said no to some of those little earpieces of Tony's so he would know if Peggy ran into trouble. But she'd be fine. She'd stormed bases full of Nazis and come out in one piece, not to mention having taken Dottie down already on multiple occasions.

Steve started to see the first signs of the building being occupied at all—opened drawers and disheveled shelves, as well as scratch marks across the top of one of the desks. Dottie was looking for something, and, if he had to guess, he'd say those scratch marks came from assembling a rifle rest.

He was approaching the middle of the level now, where the laboratory was, and Peggy's intel had suggested the contents were what Dottie was after—some of the mechanics being assembled in there could hurt an awful lot of people, and though Leviathan may have been dead, whoever Dottie was working for now couldn't want them for anything good. The lab door was open, the shelves clearly ransacked, and Steve hoped they hadn't arrived too late. Then, from around the corner, he heard a cheerful, "Hiya, Peg!"

"Dottie," Peggy replied coolly.

"Aren't you on the wrong playground?" Dottie asked. Steve slunk forward carefully, keeping low before he peeked around the corner into the narrow hallway beyond. Dottie had her back to him, standing beside the elevator and next to a pile of crates that hopefully held the pilfered contents of the lab. Dottie was standing casually, not looking as though she was armed, but Peggy wasn't buying it, training her gun on the assassin. Good thing too, since Steve could see the pistol tucked into Dottie's belt against her back.

"I thought I was Agent Thompson's problem now," Dottie continued. "Just think, I used to be an assassin no one'd ever heard of, and now I'm on the C.I.A.'s most-wanted list. I'm sure movin' up in the world, huh?" Peggy said nothing, but Dottie didn't seem ruffled. "Of course, Jacky Boy never could keep up with me anyway," she continued, a smile in her voice. "You're a lot more fun."

Peggy continued to say nothing. She'd spotted Steve, but she kept her eyes on Dottie, not wanting to give his position away. Steve stayed where he was, waiting for her signal.

"Oh, come on, Peg," Dottie pouted. "It's been more than a year since California. We gotta catch up. Heard you got hitched, by the way. Who's the lucky fella? He's gotta be some catch, if he managed to tie you down."

"Are you quite finished?" Peggy sighed.

"He know you're out here chasing me instead of at home makin' his dinner?" Dottie teased, and Peggy shifted a little and there was her signal.

"He knows," Steve said, barreling forward and plowing Dottie to the ground. She was turning to face him, but he was too fast and too heavy and they hit the floor. Steve caught her hand scrabbling for her gun and pinned it to the ground, grabbing the gun and flinging it aside with his other hand. That left him no hands to defend himself with, however, and Dottie's free hand came up and raked her fingernails across his face. He hissed, but kept his grip, and felt her wriggling as she rolled enough to get her knees under her. She managed to buck him off with more force than Steve was expecting, but Peggy was already moving in, so he allowed himself to roll back with the momentum in the direction of Dottie's fallen gun and kick it farther away before she dove for it.

She and Peggy were exchanging a fierce round of hits, and Steve leapt to his feet and joined the fray. In another situation, he might have been impressed with Dottie's ability to take a hit—not to mention the power she dished them out with—but he and Peggy had the upper hand and he eventually managed to kick at Dottie's legs while her focus was on Peggy. Dottie went down but rolled and planted her feet against the wall, shoving herself into the air and bouncing off the opposite wall. She leapfrogged up the narrow walls and sailed over Steve's head, somersaulting backwards toward the pile of crates. Yeah, okay, that was impressive. Peggy fired two rounds at Dottie as she reached for whatever was in the crates, making her jerk her hand back, and she flung the rest of her body back with the action, moving into a flip and coming back at Steve, who was running to intercept her.

Steve had seen that move before—it was one of Nat's favorites—and he knew that she was expecting him to duck left, where she would twist, lock her legs around his neck, and keep spinning to throw him to the floor. He dodged right instead and caught her in an attack that had only ever worked once when he was sparring with Nat, catching her as she curved to put her legs where he was supposed to be, wrapping an arm around her waist and hurling her to the ground (much less gently than he had done to Nat).

She grunted in surprise as the hard wooden floor knocked the wind out of her, though she was quick to recover with a grin. "Oh, you're good," she said, kicking at his legs. "Not many people see that one coming." Steve avoided the kick and was already moving to grab her arms before she could get up so Peggy could cuff them, and as soon as he had his hands on her wrists she rolled, pinning one of his hands under her back. In the split second it took him to tug it free, she'd sat up, and, in a move he had very much not anticipated, she spun around to face him and planted her lips squarely on his. "Betcha didn't see that one coming, though," she smirked.

Steve jerked back in surprise, and Dottie went flying away as a kick of Peggy's caught her full in the rib cage. Steve shoved himself to his feet and almost immediately stumbled and sat down hard on the floor again. The room was suddenly tilting wildly, and where had all that fog come from?

"Steve!" Peggy called from where she was once again in combat with Dottie, and she sounded worried, and, yeah, Steve supposed he would be worried too if she fell over and couldn't get up again.

" 'm good," he mumbled, hopefully loud enough for her to hear. It took his brain a minute to get there, but he knew what this was now. Peggy had told him about that knock-out lipstick she used to have that Dottie stole from her. He leaned back heavily against the wall and shook his head, and it didn't get any clearer, but it wasn't getting any darker either. It didn't look like it was quite strong enough for his metabolism, and if he could just stay awake until it started to wear off, he ought to be alright.

For a couple of minutes, it was all he could do to just sit there and blink while the two of them fought, and this probably wasn't what he should be focused on right now, but Peggy looked really good. He hadn't gotten to do it much in the war, since his attention was usually required elsewhere, but he'd always enjoyed watching Peggy fight. She was fast and graceful like a dancer, with the power that you would have expected from someone much larger, and ever since that first day at Camp Lehigh where she'd knocked Gilmore Hodge into the dirt, Steve had always been a little bit turned on by her right hook.

Pins and needles prickled up his arm, and maybe he could try getting up and—okay, nope, not yet. That arm was sort of doing what it was supposed to now, but his legs hadn't gotten the memo and he nearly face-planted into the floor. He looked up just in time to see that Dottie had picked up a golf club from goodness knows where and swung it around hard into Peggy's back, sending her crumpling to the floor. Steve's vision was still kind of foggy, but it was a furious red fog now, because there was fighting and then there was playing dirty, and nobody went after his wife that way. His legs weren't working yet but his arm was, and he raised his gun and fired, catching Dottie in the thigh and sending her dropping to the floor with a cry.

Dottie looked back at him in surprise, and Peggy shot him a proud smile before rolling around from where she lay on the floor and kicking the bullet wound in Dottie's leg to keep her down. Steve was able to get his feet under him, though he wasn't very steady yet. He stumbled down the hall, one hand on the wall, while Peggy grappled with Dottie. Peggy had wrestled the golf club from Dottie's grip and was pressing as hard as she could to bring it down across Dottie's throat. Dottie was pushing back, slowly losing the battle to keep it safely above her neck, and Steve stumbled forward and fell with his full weight on top of Dottie.

Her breath left her in a rush, and Peggy flung the club aside and pulled a pair of handcuffs from her belt. She snapped one around one of Dottie's wrists, but Dottie was thrashing furiously underneath Steve and keeping her other hand out of Peggy's reach.

" 'nytime, now," Steve grunted as one of Dottie's flailing feet connected with his stomach.

"Working on it," Peggy said, finally catching Dottie's other hand. Steve heard the click of the second cuff, and he rolled off of Dottie's back and onto her legs so that Peggy could bind them a little easier.

"Got it," Peggy said a moment later. She stepped back around to Dottie's head, and Steve heard the sharp sound of a fist connecting with a skull as the struggling body beneath him abruptly went still. "That's for kissing my husband," Peggy said.

Steve chuckled, and then Peggy was there, putting her hands on his shoulders and helping him sit up. "Are you alright?" she asked. Her hands came up to cup the sides of his face as she studied his eyes intently.

" 'm good," he said again. "Dunno 'f I c'n stand up 'gain yet, but 'm good."

"You're slurring an awful lot to be 'good'," Peggy pointed out.

"But 'm 'wake," Steve countered. Peggy tilted her head as if conceding the point. " 'n I c'n see better," he went on. "S'only one 'f you now."

Peggy laughed a little. "Well, I suppose that is good." She tugged a handkerchief out of one of her pockets and scrubbed at his lips, removing the offending lipstick residue. "Sorry I didn't think to warn you about that," she said. "I wouldn't've thought she had any of it left by now."

"S'okay," Steve said. "Wouldn've 'spected her to kiss me anyway."

"Let's get you up," Peggy said, and with a lot of groaning and grunting, they managed to get his arm over her shoulders and lift him to his feet. They walked up and down the hallway a bit, Steve's feet getting steadier under him all the time.

"I think I got it," he said after a few minutes. Peggy moved out from under his arm experimentally, and they both smiled when he stayed upright. "Kind of have a headache, but I think it's wearing off," he said.

"Well, you're speaking more clearly, so that's a good sign," Peggy said. She left him for a minute to return to Dottie, where she cuffed the unconscious woman's wrists and ankles together, then slid another pair of cuffs through the loop and fastened her to a water pipe. "Overkill, perhaps," Peggy said, walking back. "But I'd rather be safe than sorry."

"Are you okay?" Steve asked, now that his head had cleared up and he could actually see her well enough to look her over. The spot on her chin where Dottie kicked her was already blossoming into a bruise, and she was moving like everything hurt. He reached up a hand to touch her chin and she smiled at him, reaching up to press his hand to her face.

"I'll live," she said. She touched a finger to the scratch marks on his face. "I'm afraid we're both something of a sight, though."

"How much of a lecture you think we'll get from Jarvis?" Steve wondered.

"Quite the dressing down, I should imagine," Peggy said. She looked around the hallway. "I suppose we'd better call this in, then go home and patch each other up." Peggy picked up a phone on a nearby desk and put a call through to the C.I.A. office. "Right," she said. "Thompson's on his way. I think we'd best get you out of sight."

"Not you?" Steve wondered. Leaving Dottie unguarded until Thompson arrived was a bad idea, cuffed to a pipe or not, but Peggy wasn't supposed to be here.

Peggy smiled. "It's not my jurisdiction, but he can't be too angry, considering what I'm giving him. But he might start getting suspicious if my husband, who by all accounts is a civilian housekeeper, was here for everything."

Steve chuckled. "Fair enough." His head was clear, but he wasn't one hundred percent certain he was steady enough to make it to the first floor without falling down the stairs, so they found a side office near the back stairwell for him to wait in. Peggy directed Thompson and his team up the front stairs and waited by Dottie, who woke up just as they arrived.

"You sure weren't kidding, Marge," a voice Steve assumed belonged to Thompson said with a low whistle. Steve bristled a bit at the nickname—he knew Peggy didn't like it.

"You honestly think I would call you out here for nothing?" Peggy asked, and Steve could just imagine the raised eyebrow.

"No," Thompson admitted. "And you didn't call me first because…?"

"I had to act quickly," Peggy said. "You know how slippery she is."

"Uh huh," Thompson replied, not sounding entirely as though he bought it.

"Look," Peggy said. "The important part is that she's in custody. And because this is your case, I was never here. That means you get all the credit."

Thompson laughed. "You tryin' to butter me up for something?"

"No," Peggy said. "Though having the local C.I.A. chief owe me a favor wouldn't be the worst thing."

Thompson laughed again. "Alright. That's fair enough. Hell, I'll even owe you two."

"I'll hold you to that."

There was a pause and some scuffling sounds, where Steve imagined some of the other agents were getting Dottie to her feet. "You really gonna act like you took me out all on your little lonesome, Peggy?" Dottie asked. "You're one of the good girls—not supposed to lie."

"What are you talking about?" Peggy asked, sounding completely baffled.

"Really? You're playing dumb?" Dottie scoffed. "They ganged up on me," she continued with a pout that was evidently directed at Thompson. "Big guy like that against a little girl like me is hardly fair."

"Fair is the last thing you deserve," Thompson told her. "You got somebody else with you, Carter?"

"No," Peggy said. "Could it be, Dottie, that you're just embarrassed at being taken down by 'my little lonesome'?" she asked, a slight mocking tone in her voice. "Of course," she said more seriously. "There's also the possibility that she's not remembering things terribly well. I did hit her quite hard."

She must have nodded at the golf club, based on Thompson's, "You hit her with that?"

"She was trying to kill me, Jack," Peggy pointed out.

"Yeah, alright," Thompson conceded. "Get her out of here."

Dottie continued to complain as Thompson's men led her away.

"You need a ride anywhere?" Thompson offered.

"I've got it covered," Peggy replied. "But thank you."

There was silence, in which Steve imagined nods of farewell were being exchanged, then he heard Thompson moving for the stairs. "Hey, Carter?" Thompson said. "I'm gonna enjoy the hell out of the credit I'm going to get for this, but it should be yours. You did good tonight."

"I know," Peggy said, a smile in her voice.

Thompson chuckled. "Thanks for your help. Chief."

Thompson's footsteps retreated, and then Peggy opened the door to the office Steve was in and they headed for the stairs, one of his arms over her shoulders. "So, that's Jack Thompson," Steve said. "You put up with him for two years?"

"He grows on you," Peggy said with a smile. "He used to be much worse."

"I'll take your word for it. He's still kind of a tool, though."

"A what?" Peggy asked.

Steve considered. "Wait, that's not an insult yet, is it?"

"No," Peggy said with a grin.

"Oh."

They made it down to the car and spent the duration of the ride home being chastised by Edwin Jarvis for their recklessness, and, surely, a third person would have kept things from getting so severe, and Ms. Underwood really was quite dangerous, they should have gone in more prepared… They let him continue his rant, because they both knew he was just worried and they didn't have the energy to argue with him anyway.

Once at home, they managed to drag themselves upstairs and begin inspecting the damage. Overall, it wasn't too bad. Lots of bruises, but nothing broken, and nothing requiring stitches, although Steve was going to have to come up with a story for the neighbors about finding an angry raccoon in the trash can until the scratches on his face healed.

"I think a good, hot bath will help with a lot of these aching muscles," Peggy said. She cocked a coy eyebrow at Steve. "I know the serum heals you quickly, but if you'd like to soak away some of the pain, you're welcome to join me."

"That sounds like a wonderful idea," Steve replied.

Once the tub was filled nearly to the brim with steaming water, Steve slipped down into it, and, yes, the serum was good, but that hot water felt amazing. Peggy slid in after him, resting her head against his chest with a happy sigh.

"How does your head feel?" Peggy asked.

"Just fine," Steve replied. The last of the effects of Dottie's lipstick had worn off before they got out of the car. "I can kiss you without knocking you out now, right?" Peggy smiled and nodded, and Steve slipped his arms around her and leaned forward to kiss her. "I had fun tonight," he told her. "You know, bodily injury and chemical headache aside."

Peggy chuckled. "I did too. It was something like old times, wasn't it?"

"I don't remember the Nazis using that kissing move, but, yeah," Steve agreed, smiling. "If you ever need me for something like this again, I'm happy to volunteer."

"Good," Peggy said, rolling a little in the water and stretching up to kiss his chin. "I'll take you up on that for my next clandestine mission, Captain."

"And you know," Steve said, kissing her neck. "I've always liked watching you fight. Something about the way you move…"

"You move rather beautifully yourself, you know," Peggy replied. "It was always good to watch you in combat."

Steve smiled and kissed her again, running his hands down her sides. "I think we just might be able to salvage date night after all."

Peggy grinned. "Exactly what I was thinking."