An American in London

by CapandCarter

Peggy puts out an advertisement for a new housemate because her usual has relocated for a new job assignment. But when he arrives, he's not what she expected.

The dozens of inquiries she received in response to her advertisement were mostly rubbish.

A few responses, men who had apparently looked her up on the government's website and told her that they'd "be happy to move in to keep her company". We're immediately deleted and names forgotten.

A few others she did not reply to as the dates they needed were either too lengthy or too short.

At the end of the sifting (and searching through their social media profiles) she came down to 7 candidates. Three men and four women.

Initially she sent a response to a woman named Maria and informed her that she was Peggy's first choice, but then received an apologetic email about job changes and that she "wouldn't need a place to stay anymore but thank you".

She stared at the remaining 6 inquiries for almost a week before sending out a short but detailed survey.

Habits, Hygiene, and Expectations, she called it. No need to beat around the bush. She didn't want a slob or one of those hideous party animals living with her.

One woman and one of the men never responded or filled it out, causing Peggy to take their names off the list. The remaining 2 women and one man all responded in decent time. She took off one of the woman because of the work schedule she was proposed to have. They would be contradicting with Peggy's own schedule and they're are many things Peggy can deal with, but waiting for the shower or tripping over someone in her own kitchen were not some of them. The last two candidates gave equally good answers and had schedules and habits that she could live with for a bit.

And she couldn't seem to choose.

So, she called Natasha to help her pick.

"Is it silly for me to consider an male? And an American no less?" She said over the phone, holding it between her ear and shoulder as she painted her toenails a dark maroon.

"Both men and women can be disgusting." Natasha said back, the telltale sounds of work behind her. "I don't think gender matters for a live-in. Now him being an American… That could either be perfect, or a disaster."

"I can't believe you took an assignment in Bloody Russia." Peggy groused for the millionth time. "I hope you freeze your arse off over there."

"Might I remind you, I was born here." Natasha laughed, "and it's only for another twelve months. I'll be home before you know it."

"Leaving me high and dry, with no roommate? Not a friendly type thing to do."

She heard Natasha's long-suffering sigh. "Just look at their social media again. Who looks like they keep a clean house or won't bring home their one-night stands after the pub."

"Helpful." Peggy snapped, her head popping up at the sound of her email going off. "I'll talk to you when I can stomach listening to your voice again."

"Bite me." Natasha said in a joking tone as she hung up.

Peggy looked at the email and was surprised to see it was from the male candidate.

Date changes - Apologies

Her eyebrow raised and she clicked on the body of the email.

Hello,

I've just found out that the dates of my work assignment have shifted. Instead of 6 months, it's actually going to be 11 and it's from October to November instead, which I know is sooner than I originally stated. If this knocks my name off the list then I understand, but I wanted to let you know of the changes.

Kind Regards,

S. Rogers

Peggy stared at the dates he sent and felt the gravity shift a bit. Those dates lined up perfectly with Natasha's trip. He'd be leaving two weeks before her return which would give her the most rent money without her having to have months where she covered double the cost.

She looked up the one social media profile of his she could track down. An instagram account that hadn't been updated in the last few years. But the few pictures on it were nice enough. He was a narrow faced, but handsome man who looked quite short. He had a few pictures posted of himself with friends, or a couple with a woman who Peggy would guess was a mother.

He seemed ordinary and his answers on the survey were well said and his emails had all been properly written.

So, letting the sense of fate at his recent email ride at the brim of her thoughts. She typed a short reply and clicked send before she could second guess herself.

Peggy Carter did not do well with second guessing.

—-

Steve stepped off the plane and pushed the strap of his duffel further back on his shoulder. The entirety of what was happening kept crashing around him as he stepped through Heathrow airport and down to baggage claim.

He hadn't quite packed his whole life, but the 2 large suitcases and 4 boxes of various supplies and necessities made him feel self conscious as he pushed his cart of belongings out to the car he'd arranged to have pick him up.

He loaded his own belongings, waving off the kind driver and settled in the back seat.

"You mind taking the scenic route?" Steve asked, "I don't mind the charge. Just want to get some bearings."

"Scenic as in tourist, or scenic as in having the true scoop of your neighborhood?" The driver asked, looking at him curiously.

Steve smiled, immediately liking the man. "What if I said both?"

The driver gave him a wide grin, "I'd say I'm going to make a pretty penny today and make it worth your while mate. Let's get on with it."

Steve nodded, "Let's."

—

Peggy looks at the clock. Her new housemate, Steve, was supposed to arrive at 3p.m. and it was nearing 5.

She tapped her fingers on the countertops and rolled her eyes. Not a great start to their partnership to be so tardy.

But soon her doorbell rang and she walked to the front door ready to greet the incredibly tardy man.

She opened the door, ready to question whether he'd been had by the cabbie when her brain froze.

Because, as her eyes trailed up from where she had been looking, in front of her did not stand a thin, narrow faced man.

In front of her stood a behemoth. Tall and wide, and gorgeous, and blonde, and blue, and tan. No one in England was bloody tan.

She blinked, and he seemed amused.

"Are you…" he looked at her with curiosity, "Margaret Carter?"

Thankfully hearing a name she hated snapped her to her senses. "I'm Peggy. Margaret was my mother's idea of trying to train me to be a proper lady before I was bloody able to speak."

She blinked again. Why the hell had she just spouted that?

But the amused half grin on his face caught her attention. And she bristled, "And you are?" Because there was no way, even with the eerily similar hair and eye color that this was—

"Steve Rogers. We've been emailing?"

Bloody Nora.

"You—" She started, then her mouth clamped shut. What was she to say, 'you're much more handsome than I expected?' She settled for nodding and clearing her throat. "So you are. Did the cabbie take you on a penny ride?" She asked, glancing around him to see a… very sleek black car with a driver unloading what she assumed were Steve's belongings.

The man chuckled, a sound that Peggy immediately categorized as dangerous.

"No, I asked him to take the scenic route and he showed me around the area some so that I wouldn't be lost tomorrow. Or have to bother you to be my tour guide."

"Oh…" Peggy said slowly. "Well… good." He paused, and she stepped aside. "Well come in, let me show you to your room and the living areas."

He smiled and hoisted a large duffel in his muscled arms and followed her into her townhouse.

—-

Steve marveled at her when she opened the door. Pale skin that was shocked by the red lips it carried. She seemed a bit caught off guard by him and he tried not to focus on why that might be.

He followed her dutifully, taking in every bit of information about the house and it's quirks as she stated them.

The hot and the cold on the kitchen faucet was switched.

The light needed to be pressed firmly to actually turn off.

The heat was finicky. Sometimes the Sahara, sometimes the Arctic.

He loved the way she said 'Sahara'.

She reminded him that these are all quirks she had listed in the advertisement and he nodded, "Yes, I remember. These are no problem at all."

He loved the way she said 'advertisement'.

The kitchen was small but pleasantly arranged and he could already picture himself making meals here. The arrangement was that he was allowed half the fridge and freezer, so he was excited about that.

There were two bathrooms but only one shower. When she double checked that he showered in the mornings while she showered in the evenings, he felt the slight thrill of fear that if he answered wrong she would throw him out the door. But once he confirmed that he indeed showered in the mornings. She nodded firmly and continued on.

His room was on the second floor across from hers, just past the bathroom with the shower. She showed him that the doorknob was tricky and if he didn't pull it tight, it would swing open with abandon. The room was small to him, but he didn't mind. He was used to not fitting in places that normal humans did. Whether too small or too big, he'd always been the wrong size.

He set his duffel on the bed that he knew his feet would hang off of, and smiled at the space, excited to make it his own for the next almost year.

Finally, she showed him the small third floor that was a relatively unutilized space, but held the access to their tiny metal terrace. He stood in awe, staring out at the bustling London street and smiled, truly allowing himself to feel excited for the opportunity that had been given to him.

—-

She finished the tour with an, "alright, well, I'll let you get unpacked. Let me know if any trouble pops up."

"Thank you." He said with a genuine smile, "I really appreciate it."

She quickly added his smile under the category of 'dangerous'.

She popped through her door, closing it behind her and FaceTimed Natasha.

Surprisingly the woman answered on the second ring and stared at Peggy with an amused expression. "I thought you didn't want to hear my voice." She jabbed, an amused eyebrow raised at Peggy.

But Peggy makes an exaggerated shush motion and puts a firm finger to her lips. Natasha's expression turned to curiosity but she fell silent. Peggy held her phone nonchalantly, but ensured her wrist was turned just so as she stepped out her door and knocked gently on Steve's open door.

"Steve?" She asked, shifting the phone so she knew the camera would be facing him. She gripped it tightly when she swore she heard a tiny gasp escape the microphone, "I'm going to make some tea, would you like some?"

He smiled at her and shook his head, 'no', "but I appreciate the offer." He laughed and looked sheepish before continuing. "I'm afraid I'm one of those backwater Americans who doesn't like hot tea. Sorry, should I have put that on the survey?"

"I suppose I can forgive you since that means you won't be nicking from my Twinings tins." He seemed confused by her words and she laughed, "that means stealing my tea."

"Oh," he chuckled again, "gotcha."

"I'll be downstairs." She said quickly, stepping back and padding down the wooden steps, only bringing Natasha up to face level when the coast was clear.

"Who the hell is that!" Natasha shrieks, "I thought you picked the skinny guy!"

Peggy shook the phone wildly, "HUSH!" She admonished, stepping out her front door. "Natasha, that is the skinny guy!"

"There's no way!"

"Trust me, when I opened the door I almost knocked over."

"I leave for one minute and a gorgeous American shows up!?" Natasha pouted dramatically, "life isn't fair."

Peggy laughed, "Your recompense for ditching me like a traitor."

"So are you going to shag him?" Natasha asked, a growing smirk on her face.

"Are you bloody mental?" Peggy hissed, "do I look like I need that kind of drama?"

"You need drama." Natasha smiled jovially, "you haven't had 'drama' in too long."

"You can mind your own bloody business." Peggy snapped, before shaking her head. "Shagging my new live-in would be a huge mistake. He's probably just like all men and I don't fancy sleeping with him only for us to spat and then have to continue living on as if we haven't seen each other naked." Peggy shuddered.

"I'd like to see him naked." Natasha quipped as Peggy flipped her middle finger up.

—-

The next morning, he's gone before she even roused and she's surprised to find hot coffee left in the pot for her. She poured a cup tentatively, knowing everyone makes it differently.

But when she takes a sip, with cream and sugar added because she's never managed to want it black, she's pleasantly surprised to find that it's an extremely well-made cup.

"Point one for Rogers." She said out loud to the empty kitchen.

—-

Steve walked to work that first morning. He had a pad and pen out, taking down names of shops that he passed that he found interesting.

Several food shops, a cafe, a pub or two, a clothing shop that he looked in the windows of, knowing that he would need a new suit for the opening.

He finds a pastry show that was open and stopped in, eyeing the delicate pastries in the case.

"Can I help you?" A man behind the counter asked with a french accent.

"I was just looking." Steve said with a smile, "it all looks amazing."

The man beamed, "of course it is amazing. I made it! I do not make bad things with these hands."

"I believe you." Steve said firmly.

"So, what is an American doing in London?" The man asked with a cheeky grin.

"What is a Frenchman?" Steve shot back with a wider grin.

"Touché my friend. Would you like a recommendation?"

"I would."

The man pulled out a brown pastry box, stamped with the shop's logo and filled it with three pastries. He handed the box to Steve who held out his credit card for the man to take.

"No." The Frenchman says, not accepting the card. "This is the Denier guarantee. If you do not like them, then I shall be shamed. But you will, and you will come back for more, and then you will pay."

Steve balked, "I couldn't not pay!"

"I insist." The man smiled at him and waved him towards the door. "You will be back. I'm sure of it. Man of your size? You need a lot of pastries. You make me your regular shop. I guarantee."

Steve had no choice but to be shoved out the door, holding the box of pastries and feeling like a thief.

But as he walked away, he took a bite of one of the croissant creations and practically melted onto the sidewalk. Steve no longer felt guilty. The man was right. He'd be back.

—-

Peggy came home to a quiet house and wondered if Steve was still out. But when she walked up the stairs, she heard the faint sound of movement and noticed that his door was open, although she wasn't sure if he was aware.

His back was to her and he had large over-ear headphones on and was gently applying sticky tabs to a few photos that he held up, arranging and adhering to the walls. She watched his shoulders and back as they moved and she suddenly caught herself, shaking the image from her head and slipping into her own room.

—

The first month passed easily. Steve was gone before she woke, always leaving her coffee, and she would usually come home after he'd come home and settled in for the night. She tried to ascertain what he was doing in London, without out-right asking, and she settled on the guess that he must be some sort of consultant, although for what she couldn't say.

—-

Steve passed by the pastry shop and stepped in, breathing in the familiar smells.

"Denier!" He called, "what's it today?"

"A croissant with brown sugar drizzle." The man replied, holding out a box he had pre-packed for Steve.

"You're going to give me a heart attack." Steve said with a laugh, "And I'll thank you for it."

"You're now my most loyal customer." The man grinned, "I won't let you go hungry."

Steve smiled and nodded his goodbye after shoving a few quid into the tip jar.

The walk to work was familiar now. He recognized people and even would greet a few as the days wore on and got colder. He walked up the very large stone steps and smiled as he showed his badge to the security guard. He walked through the large marble halls and down to the large staging rooms. He nodded at a few of his colleagues and set his coffee and pastry box down. He hung his coat on his desk and placed his work back at the foot of his chair.

He carefully put on gloves and picked up his tools. Setting to work.

—

Peggy began to get more and more curious as time went on. Steve was a perfect housemate. Never left a mess or a dish in the sink. His belongings never strayed far from his room except for his toiletries which resided in a neat corner in the shower and his tiny shaving kit under the sink. He had a bad habit of not pulling his door closed all the way. She always caught it slowly swinging open while he worked at his desk with his headphones on.

She did notice that his side of the fridge was significantly more filled and utilized than hers. She'd taken to getting breakfast on the way to work if she'd had time, barely managing to eat lunch, and then usually ordering a takeaway for dinner as she was too tired to make what her mother would consider a proper meal.

Which was probably why the smell of whatever was cooking below drew her out and down to the kitchen.

She stepped lightly, noticing that he had his headphones on again and was currently taking something that smelled divine off the stove.

He turned around, ready to place the pot on a hot pad when he startled at the sight of her.

He placed the pot down and pushed the headphones away from his ears with his shoulders.

"I'm sorry, was I making too much noise?"

"No, no." She said quickly, "in all truth, I was drawn by the smell, what are you making?"

His cheeks went a bit colored and he gave her a sheepish smile. "It's sort of embarrassing. But I was just making boxed macaroni and cheese."

She looked at him blankly, "what?"

He ducked his head, "I saw it at the grocery store in the American section, which was pretty wild by the way, and it made me a touch homesick, so I grabbed a few boxes."

"Is it good?"

"You've never had macaroni and cheese?" He asked in shock.

"I have." She stated, "but not often, and never from a box. I don't think I've eaten it in ages."

He paused and considered that, "would you like some? I mean… I made plenty."

"No, I couldn't, it's your dinner."

He waved at her and grabbed another bowl. "I made plenty. And then you'll know if you like it or not."

She waited as he dished her out a sizable bowl, handing it to her with a fork and looking at her expectantly.

She lifted the fork to her mouth, admitting the smell was enticing. She took the bite, chewing slowly before swallowing and looking at his curious face.

"It tastes like plastic."

He laughed deeply but then smiled, "yes, but…?"

She took another bite, "it's delicious plastic." She admitted easily.

He knocked on the countertop with a grin and dished up his own bowl. "Exactly. I loved this as a kid. It was warm and it was very very cheap. So me and my ma ate it a lot. Became kind of a staple in our house, and even now when I could get something else, I find it's more of a comfort thing. I know it's not quality."

She let those words and the meaning of them sink in. She'd noticed he lived rather simply and knowing his background, did not begrudge him that in the least.

She asked questions about his childhood, curious if he would mention the gaping size difference but he didn't. He asked her about her family and then they began speaking about other things.

"Where do you work?" She asked, scooping out the last few noodles that were attempting to evade her fork.

"Oh, uh, over near Bloomsbury, on Greater Russell Street."

She paused, "over by the British Museum?"

He nodded and didn't elaborate. "What about you?"

"I work in the communication sector." She said idly, not going into detail either. If he didn't know she worked for the cabinet then all the better.

They talked a bit more before he yawned and then subsequently apologized for yawning. "I should head to bed." He said, before washing the pot and making sure everything was put away before nodding goodnight and heading up the stairs.

She was walking back up the stairs and noticed that his door was swinging open. She was about to knock and ask if he wanted it pulled closed, when he walked past the door, not noticing her, shirtless and stretching his arms above his head.

She stepped back immediately, closing her door behind her and smiling at the image, before shaking her head and rolling her eyes at herself.

—-

Christmas was quickly approaching and she heard a knock on her door. She slid off her bed, grabbing her robe and tying it around her. She opened the door to find a worried looking Steve standing there, hands running through his hair.

"Yes?" She asked, "everything okay?"

"Well, I just got off the phone with my friend, and he asked if he could come visit. But I wanted to ask you if that was okay first? I promise he's well-behaved, and he'll sleep in my room. You'll barely know he's here."

Peggy smiled, "of course, Steve. You're paying rent, you know. You're allowed visitors."

He visibly sagged in relief. "Okay, thanks. I really appreciate it."

She nodded and he stepped back, going into his room and pulling out hos phone.

She stayed by the door, curious.

"Buck?" She heard him say. "Yeah, I'd love if you could come. Yeah, yeah, I'll pick you up. Just send me the flight details. Tell your mom I said hello, and Rebecca. Yeah, I miss them too. I'll be sending their gifts back with you, that okay?"

She listened a few minutes more before shutting her door and wondering who this 'Buck' is."

—

Steve waited anxiously at the baggage claim, and when he say the familiar brown hair, he waved his hand, "Buck! Buck over here!'

His best friend saw him and headed his way, crashing into a hug and then fake punches as they greeted each other.

Steve clearly heard someone say, "Americans" with an annoyed tone, but he didn't care.

"I can't believe you're here!" Steve said, walking to the right carousel. "Can't believe I got you to leave New York."

Bucky scoffed. "I left New York plenty when we were in the army, you punk."

Steve laughed, seeing Bucky's bag and hauling it to the floor. "Come on, let's go."

They laughed and talked all the way back to the house.

—-

You're shitting me. Natasha's text said in response to the picture Peggy had managed to snap of Steve and his friend Bucky a day or so into his visit.

I know. Peggy responded. And you're all the way in godforsaken Russia

I hate you

Peggy just liked the message and then put her phone down, listening as the boys talked in the room across the hall.

She'd taken an instant liking to his friend, who was charming and quick witted and good looking in his own right.

Both men had striking blue eyes, even if the shades were completely different. And She noticed that they treated each other with the familiarity of family instead of friends.

—-

"We're going to go out for a meal." Steve said, appearing in front of her at the kitchen counter. Her laptop and documents spread about, "would you like to join us?"

She looked down at the work she had to do, and up at the man who smiled kindly at her, waiting for her decision.

"Sure." She said, closing her laptop. "I'd love too."

—

They settled in a pub, where she ordered her usual fish and chips and watched as Steve laughed at the way Bucky pretended that everything on the menu was foreign to him.

"Bangers and Mash?" He said, sounding scandalized, "that can't be appropriate."

"It's basically mash potatoes and sausage, you idiot." Steve said with an eyeroll.

"Sausage." Bucky said, "and they called it 'bangers'?" He looked at Peggy, "you're all freaky here on this island, you know that?"

Peggy gave a good natured scoff and fixed him with a pointed glare, "wouldn't you like to know?"

He seemed too stunned at her response for a moment before breaking out in a hefty grin. "Hell, Steve, how have you not blushed yet?"

Steve looked offended, "what'dya mean?"

Bucky turned to Peggy, "he's got this condition, you mention anything even remotely sexual and he goes red from head to toe."

"Buck!" Steve growled, "shut up."

"Make me, punk." Bucky challenged.

"Jerk." Steve retorted.

Peggy raised an eyebrow at the both of them. "Well, since we're housemates and we don't talk about sex, I haven't seen that effect, although it sounds fascinating."

"It is—" Bucky started, turning towards Steve, "watch—"

Steve's hand reached out and grabbed his friend's collar, hauling him easily out of his seat. "You better think real hard about what you're about to say, Buck. I'm bigger than you now, don't forget it."

The threat isn't real, she can hear the joke behind it, but it's the admission of his growth that catches her ears. A long-awaited confirmation that she was indeed staring at the same man who used to be scrawny.

Bucky laughed, shoving Steve's hands off and straightening his shirt. "Geez, touchy, Steve. I wasn't gonna say much, just gonna mention my last date. When I took her home, I set a new record for—" His voice gets cut off as Steve's hand clamped over his mouth.

"Buck, I swear."

Peggy laughed, amused at their antics. She noticed the beginnings of a blush beneath Steve's collar, and suddenly began to get very interested on how to create the full effect.

—

As the evening drew to a close, she watched as Bucky leaned forward, reaching for a napkin and a chain became visible.

A very specific type of chain, one her brother had worn.

She studied the man in front of her and leaned back. "Were you in the military?"

He glanced up at her, and then down at his chest, seeing the chain poking out. He wiped his face and nodded. "Yeah, we were."

Peggy's eyes slipped towards Steve who seemed all at once very interested in his hands.

"You both were?"

Bucky looked at Steve, brow furrowed, "she doesn't know you're a jarhead?"

Steve shrugged noncommittally and ate a couple more fries.

"What the hell is a Jarhead?" Peggy asked, unfamiliar with the term.

"We were in the Marines." Bucky said, looking at Steve with an annoyed but amused expression, "couple of contracts and tours."

"My brother was in the RAF." She said lightly, not wanting to tread too deeply into the sore subject.

Steve's eyes finally lifted from the table to meet hers. "Your brother?"

She nodded, "yes, he died a few years back, but he loved it. What he did."

They nodded and Steve leaned on the table, "Yeah, it…" he sighed and looked at Bucky, "we didn't like everything, but it definitely shaped who we were a lot."

Bucky laughed, slapping Steve on the back, "sure shaped you," he turned to Peggy, "Steve here was not always a giant."

"She knows." Steve snapped.

Both Peggy and Bucky turned to him in surprise. He sighed and looked at her with a knowing look. "When you opened the door that first day, you looked down, as if you were expecting me to be shorter. Which means you'd done your research. No harm. I get it. Wanting to know who's going to live with you."

She felt her collar get warm, feeling caught out. "Oh, I—"

Bucky just laughed, "you really gotta post an updated picture Steve."

"Hell, no." Steve groused. "It's freaking annoying."

"What is?" Peggy asked, trying to regain some of her dignity.

But her question sparked something because he grew quiet and his cheeks flushed, causing Bucky to laugh out loud.

"Only guy I know who hates the attention."

"It's insulting." Steve growled.

Bucky just continued to laugh and Steve waved his hand for the waitress. "Check please."

—

She continued to catelogue little snippets of Steve that she hadn't been aware of until his friend was there to point them out.

Bucky's presence in the house, for the week he was set to be there, was much more obvious. He left his shoes by the door, and his coat on the rack. He would leave a dish or two that she would then catch Steve washing when Bucky was in the bathroom or on the phone.

"I don't mind," she said, startling him one day, as she walked into the kitchen to see him cleaning up after his friend.

Steve grimaced, "I can't stand it. I—" he swallowed in a way that seemed like he was almost embarrassed. "It's habit."

"From the military?"

"No." He said quickly, "No, I—" he trailed off as he wiped off the last dish, placing it neatly in the cabinets, "I grew up in a not so great area in Brooklyn, and…" he looked up at her, "we dealt with a lot of issues. None of the least were…" he frowned, "rats and mice. So my ma and I were religious about making sure we didn't leave a scrap or crumb out for them to find. Placed all food in metal or glass containers and washed up immediately after every meal. We had the cleanest apartment in the complex, I swear. And we almost never had an infestation." His face grew a little embarrassed, "sorry, that's probably not a great story to tell. Just…"

"Steve." She said firmly, "please don't feel badly about explaining. I appreciate you being willing to tell me. I assume Bucky did not grow up in the same building?"

Steve snorted, "hell, no. He had a whole town house like this." He gestured to the second floor, "I remember feeling like the Queen of England when I got to stay over." He winced, "no offense to her, obviously."

Peggy laughed, "I'm sure she'd be honored."

He laughed and hung the towel on the oven handle to dry. "We'll be back late tonight." He said, hearing the shower shut off, "we promise not to be too loud when we return."

She waved at him, "you've been a perfect house guest. I think I can handle a little noise, either way, I'll be out with some work chums and will be back a bit later too."

He gave her a nod and a soft smile and disappeared.

She took a deep breath. Mentally categorizing.

Dangerous:

His laugh

His manners

His body

His smile

His other smile

She sighed and went to take her turn in the shower.

—

Steve and Bucky walked towards the museum and Bucky whistled as Steve led him towards the huge chambers where he worked. "This your kingdom?" Bucky kept asking.

"Shut up, Buck." He rolled his eyes, leading him to the restoration sections.

He showed him around and Bucky hopped up on his desk. "So."

Steve looked over at him, tying the apron around his waist. "So?"

"What does Ms. Carter actually know about you? Because from what I've observed, she doesn't know diddly squat."

"You know I hate that phrase."

"Diddly squat."

"I'll punch you."

"Didd-" Steve's dry brush zinged off Bucky's nose and clattered to the ground. The man in question stared at him in shock before laughing and he clutched at his chest. "Okay. Okay, I'll quit. But you didn't answer."

Steve asked, genuinely confused, "Well, she knows I'm from Brooklyn, knows I was in the Marines, thanks to you, knows I grew up poor. What else is there for her to know?"

Bucky's face gets annoyed, "that's what you've reduced yourself down to?"

Steve eyed him, "What?"

"You're an idiot."

"Ouch." Steve said flatly.

Bucky changed tactics, "one of the most gorgeous women we've ever seen is living under the same roof as you, and you're just going to be roommates?" He asked incredulously.

"Yes, Buck." Steve frowned, "I need to continue living there for the next 8 plus months. I can't risk that by hitting on her or messing it up some other way! Plus, she's not interested."

Bucky's eyebrows raised, "You're kidding me, right?"

"What?"

"She would be interested."

"No. She wouldn't."

"You're an idiot. A blind idiot."

"Okay." Steve shot back, knowing it would possibly Bucky off if he didn't fight it.

"Steve!" Bucky scowled, "you deserve to have a life, have some fun! Why won't you take advantage!"

"I'm working." Steve said, pointing at the painting that was sitting on the easel in front of him. "This is everything I've worked towards."

"Yes, yes, you're living the dream. All alone. In a foreign city. With no girl."

"Not everything's about girls, Buck."

"Okay fine, with no guy."

Steve flipped him off, "you're impossible."

"Likewise, Captain."

"Don't—" Steve threatened, "don't call me that."

Bucky recoiled, "what? Why?"

"That's not what I want to be known as."

"Steve, you earned that title, you—"

"Bucky." Steve snapped, "I don't want to be known by that. Okay? Once people know that, they act differently. And it would probably be worse here, because they would dislike the fact that I was high up in the American military."

"So you're ashamed of—"

"No." Steve frowned. "That's not what I'm saying either." He sighed and walked over, leaning against the desk next to Bucky. "For the last what… decade plus? All I've been known as is some sort of military title. Private Rogers or Captain Rogers. I'm tired of that. Can't I just be Steve? I worked hard to get where I got. And I value that experience. But now I'm here, doing what I've always wanted to do. Can't that be enough?"

Bucky looked at him and sighed deeply. "Okay. Fine. I get it. You know, not all of us got our dream jobs after quitting."

"Don't blame that on me." Steve laughed, "I told you to go back to college. You're the one who ignored my advice. Besides, I thought you liked running the shop?"

"I do. Family business and all. But seeing you here, living the so-called dream, maybe I'll think about switching things up."

Steve beamed at him, "what do you want to do? What makes you happy?"

Bucky looked around at the various artworks that were out, "I don't know."

"Well, we can work to figure it out."

Bukcy nodded and then turned to Steve, "you're really not going to try it with Carter?"

Steve groaned and shoved him off the desk.

—

Peggy rolled her eyes at another inane and rather sexist comment that her co-worker, and unfortunately ex, said loudly towards the rest of their colleagues. The few women present wore wane smiles and the men guffawed as if he'd told a bloody joke.

She stepped around the billiards table, heading towards the bar to get another drink. She watched the football match that was muted on the TV for a few minutes before heading back to her work group.

Fred, her unfortunate ex, followed her with his eyes and she caught his stare on her chest before his eyes flicked up to her face appreciatively. She glared at him, crossing her arms over herself and sitting near the group of women.

"Next time," one of the ladies said, "maybe we should choose the venue."

"It's supposed to have one of the best menus in London," another said, eyeing said menu, "that's why Wells picked it. But we haven't even been able to order food, it's so packed."

"If they keep drinking they won't even be coherent enough to order." Peggy said crisply, eyeing the continual degradation of their male coworkers mental states.

The other women laughed and they began talking about the disaster that had happened between two cabinet members the other day.

"Ladies!" One of the men crowed, "stop being such frumps, come play with us."

The women rolled their eyes and kept taking. Peggy tried to astutely ignore the way Fred watched her as he approached, "come on, ladies. Have some fun for once in your sorry lives, come play."

The woman all frowned at him but Peggy bristled, he'd said much the same about her during their short and tenuous relationship. That she wasn't any fun. Well, she didn't like the type of fun he liked. "How about you leave us the hell alone, and go play with your little balls on your little table." She said briskly, with a tight and condescending smile."

His face grew red, hand clenched around the cue stick.

"Once a bitch, always a bitch." He sneered.

"Yes, well." She smiled back, "takes one to know one, doesn't it?"

"You—" he started, before catching himself, flattening down the sides of his jacket. "How bout this. You and me. We play. I win, you pay for the bill. If I win, I pay for the bill."

"Don't Peggy." One of the women cautioned, "he's just goading you."

"Yeah, Marge." Fred simpered with a mock smile, "I'm just goading you."

She felt herself stand up, before she really processed her train of thought. "Deal."

Fred looked as if he'd already won. But Peggy steeled herself and walked to the billiards table.

She gestured at him for the break and he obliged, sinking a solid and waving her on.

She was doing decently well, keeping relatively even, with the women watching anxiously and the men whooping and hollering anytime Fred sunk a decent shot.

She was just about to sink the 8-ball and win, when Fred passed behind her and ran his hand along her backside, causing her to stiffen and miss her shot entirely.

She turned towards him enraged, about to call him out when her vision was blocked by something massive standing in front of her.

"That's a poor man's way to cheat." A deep voice said, and she recognized the voice immediately.

"Who the hell are you?" She heard Fred say, "Fucking Americans, always where they're not wanted."

Her hips were against the table and Steve's body was directly in front of her, his hand angled back, almost as a signal for her to stay there.

"You need to apologize to her." She heard Steve say, "now."

"Apologize for what? For her shoddy playing? I think not."

"She was going to beat you, and you know it. That's why you decided that sexual assault was your only way to win."

She heard Fred start to splutter and grow heated, "get out of here, you moronic imbecile. Before I teach you a lesson about British fighting."

She heard a laugh, the familiar laugh of one Bucky Barnes from far off to the side. When had they even gotten here? She wondered, but Steve's voice distracted her from the thought.

"How about this. You had a wager with Ms. Carter here, right?"

"How do you know her name?" Fred questioned, then his voice leaned around Steve, "you've been taking dull Americans to bed now have you, Marge?"

She felt Steve's body go absolutely rigid and instead of saying anything, which she had every mind to do, she watched as Steve stepped forward towards Fred in a way that could only be described as frightening.

His voice was low, a threat clear, "you had a wager. Right?"

Fred had the good sense to nod.

"Okay. You and me. I want one shot. You can arrange the cue and the 8 any way you like. If I sink it, you keep your bargain and pay. If I miss, then I pay and we leave so you can continue on in your asinine way."

Fred scoffed, "you are on."

Steve gestured to the table and waited as Fred conferred with his other idiot lackeys and they placed the cue and the 8-ball in such a way that Peggy looked at Steve in question. Did he really plan to sink such an impossible shot?

Steve took a deep breath and cracked his neck both ways before eyeing the table and circling it twice before standing on the opposite side of the cue. "Stand here." Steve commanded, pointing to Fred.

"Why the bloody hell would I do that?"

"Because if I sink this, I want you to be close enough to watch so you won't try to claim some sort of cheat."

Fred's frown was prominent as he walked over to stand besides Steve.

Steve smiled, so predatorial, that Peggy filed that smile under dangerous as well.

Steve leaned over the billiards table, his cue stick almost perpendicular to him, and he pulled the cue stick back, looking up at Peggy and giving a grin before shooting straight, the cue cracking against the 8 ball and sending it zinging, bouncing off three sides before landing with a thunk in the far pocket. Before Peggy could even process that to celebrate, the cue zinged back against the soft velvet and popped up and off the table.

Quicker than should have been possible, Steve snatched the ball out of mid-air and turned to Fred, reeling his fist back, and landing a punch so heavy, that she heard a crack beneath the force of Steve's fist and the cue ball inside it.

Fred crumpled to the ground and Steve gently set the cue ball back on the table before tipping his head, "ladies." He said calmly to the group of them before disappearing into the crowd.

"What the hell just happened." One of the women behind her asked with a smile in her voice. "Who the hell was that, Peggy? How did he know you?"

But she couldn't speak just yet, staring at her crumpled ex on the ground as he groaned in pain, and she felt a wave of giddiness run through her. She turned to Fred and looked down on him, "Serves you right, you bloody bastard. Touch me again and I won't need someone else to punch you, I'll do it myself."

The man just groaned and rolled over as she walked to the bar and ordered a full meal to-go on Fred's tab, gesturing for the ladies to do the same.

Eventually they pestered her enough that she admitted he was her new housemate and the disbelieving squeals and shouts were enough to make her shout, "hush you bunch of hens, it's not like that!"

"He stood up for you!" One of them said, "an American no less, who knew?"

"He looked ready to kill Fred, when he said you'd taken him to bed, have you?"

"What?" Peggy laughed, "no, I haven't and I don't intend to, mind you."

"What? Why ever not? He's—-"

"My housemate. Not a boyfriend, or someone I want to get involved with." Peggy said crisply. "So you all better just mind your business and leave it be."

"You mind if I take a crack at him then?" One of her workers joked, waggling her eyebrows.

"Be my guest." Peggy said, not allowing the initial instinct of jealousy to rear its head.

—-

In the end, Fred did not have a cracked jaw or a broken anything. Just a battered ego and a wicked bruise.

"You got hit just right, mate." The medic said, handing him an ice-pack. "Anymore to the right woulda dislocated your jaw, anymore to the left you woulda gotten some mighty cracked teeth. You're lucky."

Fred started to spew at the medic about what the hell did he mean by 'lucky' when Peggy walked up.

"Stop mopping like a wet cat." She glared at the man and pointed towards the bar, "don't forget to settle up, Frederick."

She walked away and her mind began to dissect the entire situation on the cold walk home. How Steve had managed to hit him hard enough to cause him to crumple like that, but just right not to cause any lasting damage… Though she couldn't understand how, she firmly believed it was exactly what Steve had intended, and the thought made her grin. Not to mention the initial shot to begin with, he must have played a lot to be that good. She tried to ignore the curious and impressed feelings that were constantly plaguing her as she walked up her steps.

—

"You're done for." Bucky said with a grin, shoving his shoulder, and looking at where Steve was looking.

Steve sighed, "how did we end up here, at the same place?"

"Maybe it's fate telling you that you're a coward, and that you should make a move."

Steve eyed the raucous group where Peggy sat idly sipping some drink and talking with who he assumed were her female colleagues.

"She's not interested Buck, leave it be."

At that moment, a loud commotion coming from Peggy and her work friends had the bar's occupants turning towards them.

"Ladies!" One of the men shouted loudly at Peggy and her friends, "stop being such frumps, come play with us."

Steve watched as another man approached them, eyeing Peggy in a way that made Steve bristle. He couldn't hear what was said but Peggy's reaction informed him that it hadn't been kind.

He heard her response, "how about you leave us the hell alone, and go play with your little balls on your little table." Her voice was fierce and made Steve grin. But that grin slid off his face when he heard the man's response.

"Once a bitch, always a bitch."

Steve was out of his seat and stepping closer as he heard her retort.

"Yes, well, takes one to know one, doesn't it?"

"You—" The man started, "how bout this. You and me. We play. I win, you pay for the bill. If I win, I pay for the bill."

Steve waited, standing on the edges, knowing it wasn't his place to intervene, but curious about the exchange.

"Don't Peggy." One of her friends said, "he's just goading you."

"Yeah, Marge." The man said with a disgusting smile, "I'm just goading you."

Steve heard Peggy say, "deal." And he watched as she walked over to the table and picked out a cue stick.

He stepped back, falling further behind the crowd and watching as Peggy and the man circled the table, about evenly matched.

Steve cheered when she sunk a shot that put her in the lead, and waited and groaned as Fred caught up in the next turn. But then it was just the 8-ball left and it was Peggy's turn. He felt himself lean forward with the crowd as she said "far left pocket" calling her shot and bent over the table to shoot.

Everyone's eyes were on the 8-ball but Steve's were on the man as he sensed something nefarious. Steve watched in disbelief as the man circled behind Peggy purposely grabbed her backside, causing her to miss her shot.

Without thinking, he pushed through the crowd, stepping in front of her, where he could see she was fuming.

"That's a poor man's way to cheat." Steve said flatly, eyeing the man in distaste.

He traded words with the man and Steve heard Bucky laugh and knew the man had threatened him.

Steve barely knew what he was saying as the man spewed vitriol at Peggy, alluding to them having slept together, or that Peggy was one to take random strangers to bed, and Steve felt more angry than he had in a long time so he challenged the man, barely registering his own words as he kept his temper.

His mind flashing back to the many, many times he'd had to use a man's pride against him. So, he took a deep breath and countered, making a gamble that the man's pride would blind him.

And as usual, Steve was right. Men who feel they're entitled to power have the desperate ego to try to maintain the illusion of power in any given situation. Steve has no such need. He'd given that up long ago before he'd hit his last and wildly timed growth spurt in his early twenties.

The doctor said that having enough to eat, and being able to afford proper medical care had caused it, but Steve called it what it was, a miracle. And he'd decided that he'd use his miracle for good, fighting for what he believed in.

A cold wake up call had been when he'd watched the men ranked above him treat him and especially the woman as tools to be used. He watched as women who worked harder than he did, get treated as secretaries and ignored when they complained about being groped or mistreated.

He'd fought tooth and nail at their side, supporting them and getting slapped in the face with every consequence that the higher ups, who were the cause, could imagine. But still he'd fought, never backing down or letting the mistreatment continue.

That's why when he'd finally made Captain, an accomplishment that he was surprised after all the hell he'd raised, he was shocked but honored that more than half of the women on their base asked to be transferred to his command.

The higher-ups had balked at the unusual requests, but Steve had signed off on every one, creating a record breaking team of 22 women and 6 men.

He'd felt a huge sense of pride at every mission they accomplished with unparalleled skill and equal amounts precision and grace.

In fact, it was a woman on his team named Hope that had taught him pool. Once she'd explain it as just fun math, angles and all that, he'd picked it up easily.

So he stares at this poor pissant of a man and smiles when the man agrees to the bet.

Sucker.

—

It was trick that he'd learned accidentally. He and Hope had been playing pool at the base and she'd hit the cue a tad to hard, causing it to pop off the edge of the table. Steve had grabbed it out of the air without thinking, because he didn't want it to clatter to the ground.

She'd stared at him agape and then smiled, "holy shit that was cool. We need to practice that."

So they had. Figuring out all the ways to make the cue hit the edge just right to cause it to pop straight off.

And Steve, never one to let a good lesson go untaught, decided that "Fred" as he heard one of his idiot friends call him, needed this lesson.

So, when he calculated the angles he would need to sink the shot, Steve added just a tad more force than necessary, catching the cue ball swiftly as it popped up, and turning to deal a fist, perfectly placed to ensure pain, but no damage. Something else he learned from a girl on his team.

The man fell, and Steve knew he would probably get kicked out for causing a ruckus. So he nodded at the women, avoiding Peggy's eyes and headed out, grabbing a crowing Bucky and hauling him out the door and into the winter's night.

"You haven't changed a bit!" Bucky shouted, his breath showing up as a puff, "still a protective little shit, that guy was such a putz." Steve had to agree with him there. "I wish Hope was here to have seen that stunt with the cue ball! Shit, I shoulda recorded it. I'm going to tell her about it when I see her."

Steve stayed quiet and kept walking.

"Steve?"

"Hmm."

"You okay?"

"Yeah."

"You just were so badass, why are you acting like a kicked puppy?"

"I shouldn't have let my temper get to me."

"Your temper?" Bucky rolled his eyes, "You literally shot once and punched a guy who deserved a lot more than that. I wouldn't call that a temper."

"She can defend herself."

"I'm sure she can!" Bucky laughed, "the look she was giving him before you intervened was deadly, buuuut—" Bucky said with a sly grin, "you know better than anyone that even girls who can protect themselves enjoy someone standing up for them."

The night was relatively silent around them as they walked back towards the house.

—-

She entered her home and listened, were they still awake?

The walk to the kitchen was quiet, but she was surprised to see Steve, sitting on one of the stools, looking out the window behind the sink.

"Steve?"

He turned to her and his face grew worried. "Peggy." He said quickly, raising his hands in surrender, "I just wanted to say sorry."

"Whatever for?"

"I shouldn't have stepped in. I know you can handle yourself. I've worked with a lot of women and you remind me of them. I know you're perfectly capable of defending yourself, I just—"

"You've worked with a lot of women?" She asked, somehow that being the only thing her mind took in.

He paused, "yes. And that instinct to defend took over." His eyes grew wide, "not that it's a male instinct or anything—" he winced at his own words, "I just mean—" he looked at her helplessly, and she wanted to laugh, but kept her features calm, waiting for him to finish. "Even though I knew you could stand up for yourself, I didn't think you should have to. All those other idiots who were egging him on should have said something. It's a shame to the male gender that they allow their female colleagues to be treated like that. I know. I've seen that shit first—" he winced again, "stuff, sorry, I meant stuff first hand and I won't stand by. I won't let it happen if there's something I can do. So, I'm sorry for getting in your way, I just never want women to think that every man is like that. Cuz we're not."

She smiled and sat down on the other stool. "I understand what you're trying to say, even if you rambled a bit to get there. Thank you, Steve. I do appreciate your actions, even if you are correct in saying I could have handled it myself."

"I know, I—"

She cut him off. "Thank you." He looked a bit mollified and she leaned on the counter," how did you end up at that place anyways?"

"Bucky looked up the best restaurants in the vicinity and that one popped up. When we saw you there we laughed at the coincidence."

"Ah, well, I'll be honest. It was quite the entertainment. So thank you. Where'd you learn to play billiards like that?"

He scrunched his nose and laughed, "one of the ladies I served with in the Marines, her name is Hope, she taught me."

"And you and Hope are… dating?" She feels stunned at the question slipping out of her mouth, and he looks stunned at her for asking.

"No, no." He said quickly, "she's just a friend. She's dating Scott, another one of my buddies."

"Ah."

"Yeah."

When he didn't say anything else, Peggy got up from the stool and brushed off the skirt suit she was wearing, "Well, I'm feeling tired, so I'm going to head to bed, but again, thank you."

He nodded, "night."

—

Steve walked into the room expecting Bucky to be asleep. "You're an idiot."

"What?" Steve asked as he sat down, removing his socks and shirt.

"She asked if you were dating anyone! That's a clear come-on!"

"Shush!" Steve hissed, waving at his friend. "She did not ask if I was dating anyone. She asked if I was dating Hope. Which I'm not."

"You're an idiot." Bucky muttered, laying on the air mattress on the floor.

—

Steve and Bucky stared at each other as they stood outside the curb of the Heathrow airport departures.

"You got the presents?" Steve asked for the thousandth time.

"Yep." Bucky answered, patting the duffle he was carrying. "I don't like it."

Steve looked at him, knowing what he meant but asking anyways, "don't like what?"

"Being so far apart. I know it's only till next year, and we grew up together. Always been around each other. Joined the military together. But now this."

"I hate being separated too, Buck." Steve admitted, "but…" he grabbed his friend and pulled him into a hug. "We'll always be brothers, okay? And I'll be home before you know it."

Then Bucky pulled back and looked at Steve, "I know I was messing around with you about Carter, but don't you fall in love with her. I swear if you call me one day and tell me you're staying because of her, I'm going to fly over here and drag your ass home."

Steve laughed, "no worries there. I won't be falling in love with anyone. Just working on my career."

Bucky huffed and then gave Steve one last hug before heading inside, waving behind him as he went.

Steve got back in the cab and told the cabbie to take him back to the house.

—-

Peggy returned from her Christmas holiday in a terrible mood. Her mother had been as disparaging as ever, questioning everyone of Peggy's choices. How a mother could be disappointed when her daughter worked in high levels of the government was beyond her. Peggy did not mention that she was living with a male housemate. She couldn't take the judgemental glares.

She'd meant to come home the next day, but had lied to her parents about some work emergency and set off from her little home village a day early.

She knew Bucky would be gone by then, and the quiet atmosphere of just Steve was a welcome thought as she parked her car and entered the house.

She called his name but received no response. He must be out and about, she thought as she hung up her hat and coat.

She walked up the stairs and thought she heard some movement, and realized he probably had his headphones on. She stepped up onto the landing and walked towards their doors, ready to greet him until she stopped short, eyes going wide as she froze in place.

Because Steve was on the ground, his feet facing her, doing pushups.

In just his boxers.

She felt her mouth gape open at the sight but couldn't tear her eyes away. Glistening skin and back and arm muscles that moved fluidly with his motions captured her attention so thoroughly that she might have blacked out for a second before snapping to.

She clapped a hand over her mouth to silence the shocked sound trying to exit her lips, and stepped backwards, but she must have made some noise, because his head snapped up and he glanced behind him, eyes turning into saucers at the sight of her.

He moved to a crouch, as she turned on her heel and fled to her room, closing the door behind her and leaning against it.

—

137… 138… 139… 140… 141…

His senses alerted him that something was behind him. That prickling feeling at the back of his neck made him look.

And oh he wished he hadn't.

Peggy stood there, mouth open in shock and eyes looking scandalized.

He pulled his legs up, crouching to try to stand up with as much dignity as possible, but she was gone by the time he managed.

"Shit!" He said out loud, slamming his palm against his damp forehead. He swears that damn door will be the death of him. But…

He grimaced, he didn't even think he'd tried to close the door because he hadn't expected her home.

He shook his head, shutting his door with a hard push and flopping back onto his bed. Bucky was right. He is an idiot.

—-

Peggy didn't see Steve for the next two weeks. He practically hid in his room, never leaving except for work or the shower.

She didn't avoid him per say but she didn't search him out either, and two weeks had gone by since she'd seen him in the flesh.

Speaking of flesh.

It didn't mean she didn't see him.

Because she did.

When she closed her eyes at night. When she dreamed, when she showered, when she let her mind wander at work. Boy did she see him. Muscular backs, arms, thighs, and calves haunted her thoughts and she had a right mind to slap herself if it didn't stop and soon.

She kept the note that she'd found slipped under the door that next morning

Peggy,

Sorry about that. I didn't know you'd be home today and I apologize for my negligence in keeping my door closed. It won't happen again, I swear.

Really, I'm really very sorry.

Steve

She had almost laughed at the note, because him apologizing for living his life in his own room while truthfully she'd been the one to intrude by coming home earlier than she'd told him to expect her, had seemed so in character for everything else she'd seen from so far.

But truthfully she did feel a tad guilty for the incident so she'd responded.

Steve,

Not to worry, I should have called to say I was coming home early. I know that door can be a menace.

Peggy

She hadn't received a response and she was getting to the point where she was going to knock on his door and just shout that he can't hide forever when she walked in one evening to find him at the kitchen counter working on his laptop.

He looked up at her, and his face instantly went pink, ears and cheeks and collar coloring as he looked at her.

"Hi." He said quietly, looking back down at the counter.

"Hello," She said with a smile, trying to puzzle out why she felt so giddy at seeing him in person again, "I see you've come out of your foxhole."

He winced, "sorry, I don't deal too well with embarrassment. Usually just try to punch it into submission. Can't quite manage it this time."

"You have nothing to be embarrassed about." She said, meaning to sound reassuring and instead sounding like she meant it another way. His color deepened and Peggy chastised herself internally. "You do that often?" She asked, trying to allay his awkwardness, "pushups?"

He ducked his head and nodded, "yeah, I try to do them everyday. It quiets my mind and helps me feel better since the job I'm doing isn't necessarily an active one."

"Well, sounds like an admirable goal. And truthfully, don't worry about it, I was surprised at first but it's not an illegal thing to work out in your room. Please don't beat yourself up about it."

He sighed, "I really am sorry." Then he squared his shoulders and changed topics, "how was your Christmas? I never got to ask."

She laughed, "it was dreadful, truthfully. That's why I came home early."

His face fell, "Oh, I'm sorry to hear that."

"Don't be," She said dismissively, "it's nothing new. Did your friend make it off alright?"

Steve nodded, tapping on the edge of his laptop, "yep. He's back home."

"So, Steve. I'm hungry. What do you say we get a takeaway or go out and grab a bite to eat. I hate cooking and I don't want to steal from your dinner. What do you say, my treat?"

He looked at her and his shoulders relaxed, "yeah, that sounds nice."

"Any food we should avoid?" She asked, leaning against the cool countertop.

"Indian food." He said with a worried expression, "I'm not a fan of the flavors and I'm allergic to peanuts."

"Okay,' she said with a chuckle, "no India, anything else?"

"No, I've eaten most places and I like almost everything, I could go for some Vietnamese or Thai.. or Chinese," he offered, his teeth biting at his bottom lip in thought, "I also wouldn't say no to Italian."

"Hmm." Peggy added, "I think Italian sounds perfect."

He nodded, "takeaway, or eat out?"

She looked around and sighed, "eat out?"

"I'll get my coat."

—-

The next months passed in much the same fashion. They would work during the day, and spend the evenings together. He would usually make dinner, but occasionally they would go out and try a new place that one of them had heard about or hadn't been to for a while.

He introduced her to Denier, and they instantly took a liking to each other. Peggy began bringing boxes of pastries to her more civilized colleagues and they raved about them.

One morning, Steve laughed as Denier pounced on Peggy, kissing both her cheeks and her forehead, "you have brought many a new customer to my shop! You are an angel!"

Peggy promptly smiled and curtseyed, batting her eyelashes as both men laughed.

One Sunday, Steve mentioned that now that the weather was warming up, that he was going to be sight seeing and probably would be gone all day.

"Would you like company?" She asked. "I do know the area."

He looked thrilled, and she did not miss the way his smile softened, "that would be great, if you really don't mind?"

"I don't." She replied easily, "sometimes it's easier to remember the beauty of where you live when you see it through new eyes."

He stopped, staring at her then nodding appreciatively. "That's a real wise statement. I'm going to remember that."

—-

After that day of sightseeing, Steve realized he had an issue.

It was that Peggy was perfect.

Not perfect in the exact sense of the word.

But perfect for him.

She was whip smart and laughed easily when he joked. She was clever with her use of humor and whenever he watched her approach a problem, he was always impressed by how she managed to pummel it into submission.

He once sat and listened to her rage on the phone for more than two hours until she convinced whatever 'incompetent arsehole' was on the other line to do his 'damn job' and stop 'twiddling about!'.

He dreamed of angry red lips that night.

Not to mention how beautiful she was. He loved her sharp sense of style and how she never left the house without being dressed as if she was attending some sort of meeting. On the flip side, he once walked out of his room as she was walking back from the shower, her hair still damp and resting on her shoulder and oh how he'd wanted to twirl it around his finger and run the rest of his fingers against her soft damp skin.

Bucky called and asked how he was doing and Steve tried his best to sound nonchalant about his day-to-day routine but he must have missed the mark because the next thing he heard what's his friend cursing.

"Oh, hell no. Steve, I told you, I will drag your ass back to America, I swear—"

"I'm not!" Steve scowled, defending himself, "we're friends, it's illegal to be friends?"

"No, we are friends. You're dreaming about drawing her, aren't you?"

Steve hesitated a millisecond too long.

"Oh, shit. Steve."

"I'm not!' He said weakly, "I haven't drawn her."

"But you want to."

It wasn't a question and Steve bristled, "of course I want to! You've seen her haven't you? Wouldn't you?"

"Steve. There's a whole battalion of people who would fly over there, knock you over the head, and drag you back home. Don't make us do it."

"Bucky, I'll be home in November. I swear."

"You better."

"I will."

—

The summer approached and London started to get hotter and more muggy than Steve would have guessed it would have.

"I thought this was an island." He groused, peeling off his jacket, "isn't it supposed to be temperate here?"

Peggy laughed, pulling back her hair into a ponytail. "England is indeed an island, we just happen to be at the part that doesn't care."

Steve groaned and laid his face against the cool countertop. They'd just returned from getting pastries at Denier's and it was already too hot this early in the morning.

"How do you wear a suit everyday?"

"Air conditioned offices," she said with a laugh, punching the thermometer down a few degrees. "Is your office air conditioned?"

He was placing the remaining uneaten pastries in a ziploc bag and nodding, "yeah it's temperature controlled." He said distractedly.

His wording made her curious. He almost never spoke about his job, and what he did say was in general or about his colleagues.

"Are you enjoying what you do here?" She asked, eyeing him curiously.

His face lit up, "yeah, I really do. Such a unique and rare opportunity, I'm really lucky to be a part of it."

"And…" she paused, wondering if she should press, but then deciding too anyways, "what is it that you do exactly?"

He bit the inside of his cheek, "well, I guess you could say… I'm helping with some lost bits of history."

"Very specific." She mused with an eyeroll.

He grimaced, "sorry, I'm under contract, I can't speak about it much."

Confidentiality clauses. That she can understand. "No problem, you're entitled to your secrets." She said with an amused smile.

He huffed a laugh and they went about their day.

—

It must have happened in the middle of the night. Peggy woke up in a tangle of sweaty sheets and muggy air.

She sat up and wiped the sweat from her forehead and groaned, "oh, no. Not now!" She exclaimed, walking to her thermostat and seeing the error message.

Twenty minutes later, she huffed in annoyance, unable to sleep with the heat and grabbed her pillow. She'd only had to do this a few times before, but refused to. Lay in her damp bed miserable.

She climbed the stairs and walked to the doors that led out to the small terrace only to see another figure sitting there.

She smiled and opened the door causing him to glance up at her arrival.

"Too hot?" She asked wryly, noting that he was once again in just his boxers.

He brought his knees up to his chest, and nodded, his voice still gravelly from sleep. "Yeah, I run really warm already, so I was melting down there."

"Sorry," she winced apologetically, "I hate when it gives out. I'll call my maintenance man tomorrow."

He waved a hand, "it's no problem. I lived the first half of my life without proper heat or cooling. I'm not about to complain now."

He shifted over to make room for her and only when she sat down did he seem to realize she was just in a large shirt.

Peggy couldn't see the color on his cheeks, but she could imagine it.

"Do you mind?" She asked, sighing as she leaned against the cool metal of the balcony, "it's too hot to wear a stitch more clothing."

He shook his head. "I'm guilty of public indecency too," he huffed, gesturing to himself, "no judgments from me."

"What a pair we make." She commented, laying her pillow down on the metal and laying vertically, her head close to his hips, "too hot to sleep, half naked on our terrace."

She heard him give a deep chuckle that made something in her stomach flutter. "Can't say I ever pictured this situation."

She angled her head to look up at him, "but you've pictured us in other situations?" She knew it was mean, teasing him so, but the way he got flustered so easily was too much fun to resist.

"W-what?" He stammered, "wh—no, I— no! That's not what I meant, I only meant—"

She reached her hand over her head and laid it gently on his thigh, "I'm only teasing you, Steve." She gave his leg a squeeze before sliding her hand back and resting it on her waist, her fingers trailing the iron wrought designs of the metal.

She could feel the tension coiling through him and she sighed, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have teased you. You've been nothing but a gentleman. I just like testing out your friend's theory."

He still didn't respond and she rolled onto her stomach, elbows on her pillow. She felt her large shirt ride up, showing off a bit more thigh than she'd usually allow, but the cool night breeze was wonderful, and she loved watching him studiously avoid looking at her. So… adorable was the only word she could think of. "Have you dated much?" She asked, pressing her luck.

He looked up at her and she watched as his eyes caught sight of her skin reflecting the soft summer moonlight and his eyes snapped forward, "no." He rasped out, "I've never really dated."

She leaned her head back in surprise, "surely you're lying."

He glanced over, keeping his eyes on her, "why would I lie?"

She tilted her head to the side, "I suppose you have a point. Okay, why haven't you dated?"

She watched him shift down a bit further, the muscles and skin showing off his wide torso and how much she wanted to trace his ribs with her forefinger. His hair was a ghostly blonde in the moonlight as it hung dimply in front of his forehead.

"You saw what I looked like." He stated, "no girl was interested in a guy who looked like that—"

"Why not?" Peggy huffed, "I thought you looked quite fetching all angles, blonde floppy hair, and big eyes—" She clamped her mouth shut a second too late as the words escaped her, and she was about to curse herself internally for being so big mouthed, when, maybe it was the moonlight, but his eyes turned to her and she could swear the softest and most gentle expression crossed his face, a look that she couldn't breath during. It captured her and they stared at each other for a long minute before he titled his head and smiled.

"That's very kind of you to say. You… actually you have no idea how nice that is to hear." She watched his throat bob and her curiosity continued to override her better judgment.

"Why?"

He frowned and she didn't like that nearly as much. "It's not like I tried every often, I didn't. But no girl I ever did try to speak to was interested in me. Then suddenly, I started growing very late in my life, and magically every girl wanted to talk to me." His brow was puckered and she could imagine how hurtful that would be. "Nothing about me had changed. Not a single aspect of my personality. I was still the kid who loved history and art and music and I was still the guy who read a lot and wore glasses. But suddenly girls were interested. Truthfully it made me so sick and jaded about relationships that I told myself I wouldn't date anyone until I was sure."

"Sure about what?"

"That they were the right one."

She laughed softly, "And how are you to know that without dating them?"

He looked her very seriously in the eye and she caught the utter determination in his eyes. "I'll know."

She felt herself swallow thickly at the intensity of his gaze.

"What about you?" He asked, shifting their attention, "you date much?"

"That wanker you punched in the pub?"

He looked at her incredulously, "no."

She nodded, her nose scrunching in distaste. "Unfortunately, yes. For over a year actually. We were even engaged. The first year was lovely. He was kind, thoughtful, and spontaneous. But as soon as the ring was on my finger it was like a switch flipped. Suddenly I was his property instead of his partner and I refused to accept that. My mother was furious with me, but expectations be damned. I'm not being saddled as the housewife with the husband as my master."

"Nor should you be." Steve said in a deep tone that she felt in her chest. "He was stupid for treating you that way."

She nodded, rolling onto her back and lying watching the moon. She brought her knees up, watching his eyes to see if he would look over at her revealed thighs, but he never did. She couldn't decide if she was glad for his respect, or disappointed in his lack of interest. "Before Fred, I only dated a few other boys, nothing ever too serious. Truthfully, I haven't found anyone close to the right partner."

"Ain't that the truth." He responded, resting his chin on his knee.

"Steve?"

"Hmm?"

"Are you hungry?"

He looked down at her with a question and she laughed, "you seem to eat a lot, and it's been hours since we had dinner, and I just feel like a midnight snack is appropriate on such occasions as these."

She watched his eyes as they surveyed the quiet street in front of them and then he smiled, "yeah, I could eat."

"Brilliant." She said, "I'll be right back. Make yourself comfortable."

She stood up, walking back down the stairs and collecting a cookie tine, a package of crisps, and two bottles of cold ginger-ale, bringing the haul back upstairs. By the time she'd managed, he'd laid out his comforter, covering the hard metal floor and brought his own pillow. "I hope you don't mind." He said, "figured it would be more comfortable."

"I don't mind at all, it's quite comfortable," she replied, sinking to the floor and handing him a bottle dripping with condensation. She laid the rest of the snacks out and then looked about. "I think we'll be more comfortable if we lay parallel, what do you say?"

He looked nervous but nodded and she nodded firmly back, crawling towards the far edge and laying down, grabbing her pillow and stuffing it under her head.

He sat there, holding his pillow unsure, "should I—" he gestured to her feet and she laughed, "You're welcome to sleep near my feet, but I don't mind if we're face to face. I promise I don't bite."

The sheepish grin on his face was endearing as he laid his pillow beside hers and rested against it. His bulk took up a considerable amount of room.

"Sorry." He said, sorrowfully, "I'm alway the wrong size."

Something about those words struck her. How easily it was for him to think that way about himself.

"Nonsense." She retorted, "I've plenty of room, and I sleep on my side anyways."

He said nothing and she sipped from her bottle. The moon continued to rise and they snacked silently for a while.

Finally she yawned and closed her eyes, "Night, Steve."

"Good night, Peggy."

—-

Steve slept fitfully at first, worried he was going to roll over and crush her, even though he barely moved in his sleep to begin with.

He finally was able to drift off with the smell of her perfume lingering in his nose.

—-

He heard a whistle and it brought him to consciousness. He blinked away, yawning and heard the whistle again. He squinted at the rising sun and shifted.

And froze.

He looked down to see Peggy's arm across his chest and her leg resting on his lower hips, her foot resting near his knees. Her nose was resting against his shoulder and he could feel the gentle push and pull of air as she breathed. He felt goosebumps on his arms and swallowed hard.

His heart rate accelerated at her touch. She shifted and made a sound in her sleep that had his throat going dry. "Peggy." He said quietly, "wake up."

And in her sleep she mumbled words that made his chest constrict, "just a few more minutes, darling."

He looked at her sleeping face and his heart clenched. She was so beautiful, and so… ugh, everything he wanted in a wife—

He cut that thought off and shifted under her, gently moving her arm to rest at her side and sliding her knee off of him. In doing so, her shirt rode up to her waist and revealed the sensible but delicate dark blue underwear she was wearing.

He snapped his eyes shut, and was about to turn when he heard the whistle again.

"Oi! Hey, lad, you guys outta really take your little show inside. There's kids who walk this street!"

Steve felt his blood run cold as he turned to face the street and saw how lively it already was.

He leapt to his feet and leaned over the railing, "Sir, what time is it?!"

The man scoffed at him, "it's quarter to 9 lad," Steve slammed his palm against his forehead. He hadn't even thought to bring his phone up which had his alarm.

"Peggy," he called, now a bit frantic, "Peggy, wake up!"

When she didn't, he panicked, leaning down and scooping her up in his arms, hauling her inside as gently as possible. He walked to her room and set her on her bed. He was usually at work 45 minutes ago, and he knew she was usually up by 8:00, so they were both majorly late.

"Peggy." He called again, "please wake up!"

She groaned and blinked and he took hold of that, "yes, come on, wake up! You need to wake up, we're late for work."

That snapped her awake. "We're what?!"

"It's 8:45" He said with a grimace. She blanched, bolting up and looking at her surroundings. "How the bloody hell did I get to this bed?"

He winced, "Sorry, you wouldn't wake up and the neighbors were yelling at us for being indecent to the kids." He gestured to their attire and she groaned, slamming back onto the bed. "You're bloody joking!"

"I wish I was."

"You carried me?"

"Yes, I'm sorry, I tried to wake you. I didn't even think of an alarm. When we laid down to sleep."

"Neither did I," she said morosely, then it seemed to hit her, "Steve! You're late!"

He frowned, "I know, but… I'll make up some excuse."

Peggy nodded and then froze. "You said people saw us?"

"At least one guy did, the guy who yelled at us to get inside."

"Oh no." Peggy groaned, "if it's 8:45 that means the school children have already passed with their parents!"

Steve visibly paled and stepped back. She looked at him, "go, get to work, I'll get the conditioner sorted out and we won't let this madness happen again."

He nodded, and disappeared through the door. She heard the shower run for a max of two minutes as she tried to fix her wild hair into some semblance of order. He was out the door not 8 minutes later and she made it to work with just a few people eyeing her. She just sighed as if it was 'one of those mornings' and they seemed to take it for face value.

She sighed as she sat at her desk, trying to distract herself from the fact that somehow, even on a metal grated terrace, she'd had the best night's sleep that she could remember in ages.

—-

"You're late." Monty said with a grin, "you're never late. Who was she?"

"Shut it Falsworth." Steve huffed, tossing his bag onto his chair and grabbing his apron.

"Your hair isn't even dry or styled!" The man crowed, pointing at him, "ohh, she must have been a lovely tart, tell me about her."

"I'm not late because of a girl." Steve insisted, "I'm late because I forgot to set my alarm."

Monty scoffed. "You? Mr. Punctual? Mr. I-always-have-pastries-and-coffee-and-am- on-time except for some reason today?"

Steve grumbled internally, maybe he was a tad too consistent if it was going to get me in trouble like this.

"Monty, I swear, just hand me my toolkit and shove off."

The man grinned at him. "You're blushing."

"No, I'm pissed that my colleague is keeping me from my job."

"Whatever you say, lover boy." Monty teased tossing him his bag of supplies and walking away.

Steve spent the entire morning distracted. He tried to focus on what was in front of him, but his head kept going to the soft cool touch of her skin against his, and the way her hair smelled like vanilla and rose and how he wished he could draw her so peaceful like that.

But he couldn't.

Drawing was off limits. It was too permanent and way too personal. Bucky was right. If he drew her, it was game over. So he wouldn't. No matter how much the curve of her shoulder and the sway of her hips made him want to capture her likeness on paper.

"Steve?"

He looked up, catching Monty grinning at him, "you seem a bit distracted."

"Why do you say that?"

Monty chuckled and pointed to his hand, where he held his tiny scraper upside down. He felt himself flush and Monty laughed harder, "Sure, sure, just your forgotten alarm, huh?"

"Piss off, Monty."

"As you wish, Steve."

—-

But it was the next day that really brought it down on their heads.

Peggy woke from a deep sleep to her phone ringing off the hook.

She reached for it, her fingers stumbling around until it found the infernal device. "Hello?" She answered groggily.

"Carter, what the hell were you thinking?"

"Mr. Nyson?"

"You better put out some fires, this does not look good for a government aide."

The line clicked dead and Peggy sat up, rubbing at her eyes, the clock said 7:15, so she wasn't late, but he'd seemed out of the ordinary angry. She looked at her phone to see a message from one of her co-workers.

No intention of taking him to bed, eh? ;) Good for you!

A link was beneath it and Peggy's heart stopped beating. "Oh bloody hell!" She screamed, clicking the link and finding a tabloid rag with a photo of her back and arse hanging out of her shirt on her metal terrace. You couldn't see her face, but she was a government worker, it would be easy enough to discover her address for anyone who had the time and will. She could see Steve's blonde hair above her own but thankfully his face was covered by his own arm resting over his eyes. What could be seen at the strange upward angle the picture was taken from (must have been standing across the street) was her leg hitched up on his hips, helping expose her blue knickers. She shrieked, throwing her phone from her and cursing like a sailor.

"Peggy?" She heard a concerned voice call, "are you okay?"

She stormed to the door, ready to rant about people's lack of respect for other people's privacy, when she stopped short as his appearance caught her off guard. He had nice khaki slacks on, but his button up shirt was untucked and it hung open, revealing a very enticing strip of his chest. His hair was damp, and it looked soft.

"We're tabloid fodder." She hissed, finally finding her voice, "I'm going to bloody murder whoever took that photo."

His face went pale, "what?"

She grabbed her phone and thrust it at him.

"You're a government worker?" He asked, surprise across his features, as he held up the phone to show the title of the article which she hadn't even read.

Cabinet Aide, Margaret Carter, Lets It All Hang Out After Trist with Mysterious Man!

Peggy shrieked again, grabbing her phone and yelling at the screen, "we didn't even do anything!" She accused her own phone, "you're full of shit, you know that!"

She huffed and stormed across her room, slamming things around and turned to yell some more when she noticed the amused expression on his face.

"What?" She snapped.

"You're gorgeous when you're terrifying."

The words struck both of them at the same time and she stood there stunned as he took an involuntary step back, "I'm sorry, I didn't— I wouldn't— You're—" He sucked in a sharp breath and said, "sorry!" Before bolting from the room.

She stood there a minute longer, reeling in the words he'd just said that invoked a warmth in her chest and a long-dormant feeling in her stomach.

She heard him leave for work a few minutes later and she shook herself out of her stupor and did what she did best. Got to work.

—

She ignored all looks and all side eyes as she marched straight to Mr. Nyson's office.

She barged in, and stood in front of his desk.

He glared at her, and she glared back.

"I did not sleep with that man. He is my housemate. My air conditioner broke and it was unbearably hot in my house. We decided to sleep outside on my terrace and I forgot to bring my bloody alarm. I am an octopus in my sleep, hence why it looks like I'm draped over him, but I have never caused a scandal like this before and I never will again. I don't even owe an explanation for my private life, if I bloody had one, but I am explaining this to you since you're my boss and have assumed that I'm some floozy who sleeps with men in a public place. Which I am not. I am going to call up that tabloid rag and tear into them with my entire choice vocabulary, but I need to know I have your support and belief."

She did not waver, or look away. She stared at him as he studied her and then he raised an eyebrow and sighed.

"Fine." He snapped, "don't let it happen again. You're a good aide and I can't afford to lose you to this kind of nonsense."

"It won't happen again, I assure you."

"Good. Call that rag."

"Yes, sir."

—-

Steve berated himself on his entire walk to work. When Denier asked what was wrong, Steve just sighed and didn't say much. He paid for his pastries and coffee and left, the man eyeing him curiously as he exited.

He walked past the shoppes and the houses, climbing the large marble steps and walking mindlessly to his station.

He was halfway through setting up for the day's work when he heard a shout. "You're a lying shit you know that?"

He turned to find Monty, holding an edition of the tabloid in his hand and Steve schooled his face, "What do you mean?"

"Don't play coy, Mr. American." Monty said with a smile, "this is you."

"Who's me?" Steve asked, eyeing the tabloid like it was new to him.

"Let's recount the day's events, shall we?" Monty said with a cheeky grin, sitting on Steve's desk. "Yesterday, you came to work late, disheveled and more distracted than I've seen you be in the 6 months you've worked here. Next day, a tabloid of our country's loyal 'Peggy Carter' is posted with her wrapped around a tall blonde mystery man that no one recognizes. No one but—" he points to himself, "me, because I work with that particular man everyday, and I could spot that specific color of golden hair any day."

Steve. groaned and sat heavily in his desk chair. The motion made Monty's eyes widened and eyebrows disappear into his hairline, "I'm right?! I knew it!"

"No." Steve sighed, "it's not like that. We didn't sleep together. We're not together. We live together. I rent a room in her house. I had no idea she was a government worker till yesterday. And—" Steve rubbed at his eyes. "Her AC broke so we slept outside, it was too hot inside. I didn't mean to fall asleep without my alarm, but we both did."

"But she's wrapped around you—" Monty started.

"Only in sleep. She didn't even know she'd done it. I swear, nothing even happened."

"Well." Monty said crisply, "that's considerably more boring."

Steve rolled his eyes, sorry to disappoint."

"No bother." He responded with a smile, "you may not have slept together. But you want to. Am I right?"

Steve's brow furrowed, "no. Because I leave in 3 months and it would be foolish of me to start something I can't finish. And—" Steve glared at Monty, "She's a human being who deserves to be treated better than that."

That quieted the Brit down and he eventually looked up at Steve and nodded. "You're a good man, Steve." Monty throws the tabloid into the trash bin. "Sorry for pouncing on you."

"Thanks." Steve said, standing up and grabbing his canvas smock, "let's actually do some work, huh?"

"Another day in paradise, right my friend?"

Steve looked around at the myriad of pieces that surrounded him. "Yeah, I'd say so."

—

The women crowded her, laughing and teasing her and she laughed back. They weren't being nasty, just curious. But the men either nodded with impressed expressions or looked at her like she was a piece of meat. Which she was very keen to glare at them until they bloody well stopped.

By the third day, everyone had thankfully moved on and she could work in piece again without anyone asking her who he was.

It didn't stop her however from picturing the picture and her legs wrapped around him. Something he hadn't mentioned and seemed quite intimate.

Not to mention him carrying her to her bedroom.

She tapped at her phone and pushed the thought of Steve and her bed away.

—

"How am I hearing this just now?" Natasha snarled over facetime, "I swear the world could end and I wouldn't find out about it till the next week with how slow news arrives in this godforsaken waste land."

Peggy smirked at her friend, "growing tired of your homeland?"

"Yes." Natasha said with a snap. "And you're out here having torrid affairs with hot Americans."

"I did not have an affair you twit." Peggy corrected, wiping off the day's makeup. "It was an accidental lie-in."

"Whatever, you might as well have been on top of him."

"I miss you." Peggy admitted. "I miss having your ridiculous comments and wild advice."

Natasha's face softened, "believe it or not, I miss hearing your tight ass opinions about my life and your motherly wisdom in my ear."

Peggy snorted, "motherly, right."

"Better than my mother's."

"You're mother is dead."

"My point exactly."

Peggy scoffed and set the phone down, removing her earrings.

"How did he take it?" She heard Natasha ask.

"There was nothing for him to take. No one knows who he is, and I'd like to keep it that way."

"So, be honest. Is he a better housemate than me?"

Peggy laughed, "why, worried I won't let you move back in?"

"You better, or I'm suing. But you're ignoring my question."

"He's quieter than you, and cleaners, and he cooks."

"Shit." Natasha groused, "maybe we should let him stay. He can live on the third floor."

"I'm fairly certain he's going back to New York when his work assignment is finished."

"Oh? And what work assignment is that?"

"I don't know." She said truthfully, "he hasn't said."

"Maybe he's an American spy set out to blacken the reputation of the young, hot, and impressionable government aides."

She laughed and Peggy joined in.

—

Steve watched as the huge banners got hung on the outside of the museum. He and Monty stood, hands blocking the sun from their eyes as the colorful signs were placed carefully, advertising the coming exhibit.

"Guess it's real." Monty commented, seeming a bit in shock.

"Yeah…" Steve responded quietly. "I guess it is."

—

July was coming to a close and she was excited for the weather to begin to cool down again.

"Carter?"

She glanced up, watching as Mr. Nyson moved slowly towards her, "I need you to do something for me, and before you snap that it's a secretary's job, know that this would come with a reward if you manage it."

She eyed him curiously and waited for him to continue.

"Have you heard about the new exhibit at the British Museum?"

She leaned back, her chair squeaking, "no, what is it?"

"It hasn't opened yet, it opens August 5, and I need tickets to the opening gala."

"And you want me to get them?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because you're the only person I can incentivize to do this non-work related thing for me." He said dryly, leaning against her desk.

"And how would you manage that?"

"I'll make sure that proposal you submitted to me sees the light of day."

Her stomach flipped, "you would?"

"It's a good proposal anyway, so it would see discussion at some point, but if you get this favor done for me, I can place it at the top of the stack."

"Yes, sir." She said immediately, "consider it done."

—

"Shit!"

Steve's head popped up at the expletive as it crossed the hallway and he grinned. She sure knew how to use her curse words.

After a few more choice words, Steve's curiosity couldn't be kept. He walked to her open room door, not stepping inside, since the last time he had, he'd made a fool of himself. "What's wrong?" He asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Bloody stupid gala and their stupid process to acquire these bloody tickets!"

He chuckled quietly but fell silent at her glare at him.

"What gala?" He asked.

"The British Museum is hosting an opening night gala for their newest exhibit."

Steve stiffened, "oh."

She was too distracted to notice his shift. "How can they be sold out?" She exclaimed, "it's only the first day the tickets are available!"

"What do you need them for?" He asked, curious as she'd never shown an interest in art before.

"My boss needs them, and he'd promised me to push my proposal forward faster if I managed to snag him 4 tickets for the gala."

"Ohh." Steve responded, unsure of how to respond.

"I can't believe I have a once in a lifetime opportunity to get my proposal on the Cabinet floor and I'm losing it!" She groaned and flopped back on her bed.

"Maybe you should email them." Steve offered, "explain who they're for and see if they'd be willing to extend a few extra for you." She eyed him and he shrugged, "couldn't hurt, worse they'd say is 'no', which is the answer you already have."

She considered this and nodded, "you're right, I'll try that."

He nodded and bid her goodnight.

—-

Steve picked up an extra pastry as he walked to work. Instead of going to his usual space, he walked towards the communications offices and silently thanked his stars that he'd taken the time to get to know the museum staff so he wouldn't just be a stranger showing up.

"Morning, Steve!" A kind woman named Rose, who worked the phones, called out.

"Morning, Rose." He responded with a smile. "Is Lorraine in?"

Rose nodded, pointing to her office and Steve nodded his thanks.

"Lorraine?"

He poked his head in and saw her typing away at her computer.

She looked up and instantly smiled at him, "hello, Steve, how can I help you today?"

He set the pastry down and pushed it over to her, "I was hoping to bribe you, this morning actually."

She eyed the pastry and laughed, grabbing it and taking a bite, "consider me bribed, what do you need?"

"I have a friend who needs some tickets to the opening gala. I know us workers are allotted some, and I wanted to give them mine."

Lorraine nodded, eyeing him a bit more closely, "okay, I think I can manage that. You want to send both of your tickets?"

He winced, "is there any way I could get 5 tickets?"

Lorraine stood up, and moved around the desk hopping up on the front of it and studying him. "That's a big favor." She teased, taking another bite of pastry. "But I bet I could work it out if you could do me a favor in return?"

He swallowed thickly at the way she was eyeing him, "what do you need?"

"A handsome date for that very same gala." She reached out and tapped on his museum badge, "what do you say, are you up for a date with me?"

He blinked, "you want me to be your date?"

She rolled her eyes at him, "don't act so surprised, you're sweet as punch and handsome. I'd love to go with you."

"Oh." He said softly, shocked. "Oh."

His hesitation caused her to frown. "Or if you don't want to, that's fine. Just tell me the email and I can send the tickets to him."

Him.

He felt his throat go dry at the thought of turning her down and giving her a female's email address.

"No, I'm sorry, I was just surprised. I'd love to go with you." He said quickly.

She brightened, "you sure?"

"Of course. I'll pick you up at 7, how does that sound?"

She smiled widely, "perfect." She hopped down and walked around to her computer, "now here, type in the email address and I'll send them straightaway."

He typed quickly and she didn't even seem to glance at the address before including the link to the tickets and sending it off.

"Thanks." He said genuinely, "you've helped a lot."

"Anytime," she said with a wink.

He left, walking out of her office, stuffing his hands in his pockets and walking down towards the restoration rooms.

—-

"You were right!" Peggy crowed as she threw open the doors, "they responded and gave me the tickets!" She flung her arms around his neck and hugged him tightly. "Thank you for suggesting that!"

He smiled at her and hugged her back. "Glad it worked out."

She released him and tossed her shoes in a pile on the floor, "they even sent me an extra ticket! Should I go?"

Steve felt his heart flutter, he wanted to go with her. "Yeah." He said with a smile, "you should go."

She smiled brightly and ran up the stairs.

He sighed and looked out the window, watching the sun as it sank lower in the sky.

—

"Your suit is ready!"

Steve looked up to see Mrs. Jarvis holding a garment bag. He had come to the suit shop a few weeks and gotten measured for a new tuxedo.

He stood from the chair in front of the shop and walked towards her. "Thank you so much." He said, taking the garment bag and holding it carefully.

"Glad to help." The woman said cheerily, "come again soon!'

He nodded noncommittally and walked out the door.

—-

At 6:15, he heard Peggy leave and he got dressed after, carefully styling his hair to the side like his ma used to say looked best and attaching the small bronze cuff links that were his fathers. The car he'd ordered arrived right on time at 6:35 and he gave the driver Lorraine's address, sitting quietly in the back as the car drove past the city, dusk settling around them.

She looked stunning, it was true. Her light blonde hair contrasting nicely with her emerald green floor length gown. He told her she looked beautiful and she responded with "and you look incredibly handsome."

They had decent small talk on the way there and she beamed again when he opened the door for her, instead of the driver.

They waved their badges at the security who waved at them in recognition and Steve watched in awe at the throngs of crowds that entered the massive doors.

They made their way to other workers, who they found standing off to the side, watching as the guests eyed the amazing artwork and mingled with drinks and appetizers being passed around.

—

He kept an eye out for her, but couldn't decide if he was grateful or disappointed that he never caught sight of her.

As the evening wore on, Steve was certain of one was nice, and completely acceptable as a date. She just wasn't what Steve was looking for.

She did not seem to notice his quiet demeanor, talking enough for the both of them.

"Ladies and Gentleman" a voice called out over the speakers, "a surprise is in store for you," the voice instructed them to gather in the large atrium and he, Lorraine, Rose, Monty, and a few others stood off to the side while the museum curator took to the temporary stage that had been erected.

"You are here tonight to witness the new gallery of artwork from the 1940's." He said in his crisp accent into the microphone, "but what you do not know is that all of these pieces are recovered from the pillaging that Hitler and his soldiers stole and hid away from all across the continent during the second world war."

A gasp went through the crowd. And the curator smiled, and nodded, "yes, it is true, but there is even one more surprise. After their stay here at the British Museum, each piece will be returned to its country of origin."

A loud applause swept through the crowd and the curator smiled again, clapping his own hands before calling everyone to be quiet. "Now, I did not tell these two gentlemen I was doing this, but I want to place a spotlight on the two men who have been working countless hours in painstaking detail to not. only identify each work of art, but restore it, clean it, and prep it for display. These men have dedicated the last 7 months to ensuring that each piece is returned home in its former glory."

Steve and Monty looked at each other with wide eyes. "Oh no." Steve whispered at the same time that Monty hissed, "bloody hell."

"Come on up here gentleman!"

Hands shoved them both forward and Steve felt his cheeks going hot as they were pushed and prodded onto the stage.

"Ladies and gentleman, the masterminds behind this entire gallery, James Falsworth and Steven Rogers!"

Applause filled the room, but Steve's eyes were on one person's. Wide brown eyes and shocked red lips staring up at him.

He winced and begged off the stage the minute the applause started to fade. He was followed quickly by Monty as they walked quickly back to their group of colleagues.

"That was miserable." Monty groused.

"You both looked like you'd been pinched in the arm, the sour faces you wore." Rose admonished.

"He could have given us some warning." Steve pouted.

"Oh, come now." Lorraine chided, "you worked hard for this, you should be proud, you deserve the applause!"

He tugged at his shirt sleeves, feeling too warm. "I need some air." He said suddenly, walking away and down a roped off corridor. He leaned against the cool marble wall and took a deep breath.

He heard heels and he internally chastised himself for wishing it would be Peggy. He turned to look and saw Lorraine walking slowly towards him.

She looked beautiful, light hair curling down along her neckline and eyes sparkling in the dim lighting through the glass windows.

"You wanted air…" She said slowly, "but I didn't know if it was code for something else."

He furrowed his brow, "like what?"

She stepped in front of him, and pulled on his suit jacket, tugging him down and kissing him, running a hand through his hair and pressing ge herself against him.

He stood there, not responding, surprised before he gently pushed her back and cleared his throat. "It wasn't."

She tilted her head at him, a mixture of confusion and a bit of annoyance, "what wasn't?"

"Code for anything else."

She caught onto his meaning immediately and stepped back. "Oh." He could see the hurt at his rejection crossing her face.

"I'm sorry." He said quickly, "I'm just not looking for anything right now."

She huffed a laugh, "who said I was? Maybe I just wanted to have a fling."

He shook his head, stepping further away from her. "I don't have flings."

Another chuckle escaped her, "yeah, I'm gathering that."

"I'm sorry."

"Steve, it's fine. It was just a date and a kiss."

He sighed in relief at her amused expression, "I'll find my own way home, okay?" She said with a smile, turning and leaving him alone in the quiet hallway.

—-

Peggy searched for him, walking around the large atrium, thinking it should be very bloody easy to see his head above the crowd.

After they'd made eye contact from the stage, she'd reeled at the thought that this had been his job the entire time. She quickly understood that since he was dealing with the delicate artifacts, that he'd been instructed to not share details until the curator had announced the 'big surprise' at the gala.

She was desperate to find him and ply him with all her new questions.

She was walking back towards the entrance, when she spotted him. He looked unusually harried as he walked towards the big exit doors.

"Steve!" She called out, "Steve!"

He turned and she caught up with him, immediately losing her train of thought at his rumpled hair and the lipstick faintly present on his lips. He looked quite the sight and she instantly felt annoyance and jealousy even though she had no right to feel either.

"Peggy." He said with a smile, "did your boss keep his promise?"

The eye roll she gave him was heavy, "he hasn't yet, but he will. But don't try to distract me, I can't believe you're working here! In charge of the whole thing!"

He put his hands up, "no way, I'm not in charge, I work in the restoration rooms and categorizing them, that's about it."

His humility endeared him further and she reached up the smooth over his hair. "Did you have a fun encounter?"

The way his shoulder stiffened was almost comical, "what do you mean?"

"Well, your hair is all riled up, and I'm pretty sure you don't usually wear lipstick, unless it's a recent addition to your cosmetics routine?"

The way his hand flashed to his face, rubbing at his lips and looking at the color there and groaning, really did elicit a laugh from her this time. He frowned at her mirth, which made her laugh harder.

"Not a good kiss?" She asked amused, eyeing the crowd as if she might be able to ascertain who it was.

"Not an expected one," he huffed, wiping at his lips again.

"Ah, she pounced?" Peggy teased.

"In a manner of speaking." Steve admitted, "I should have been more clear."

She pursed her lips in amusement and reached out to wipe her thumb across his top lip, removing the last bit of color that he hadn't gotten. His lip was soft and pliable under her touch and she felt a thrill as he sucked in a small breath of surprise at her touch.

"There." She said a bit weakly, "now you're lipstick free."

"Thanks." He responded in a low whisper, his eyes not leaving hers as the atmosphere charged around them.

She watched as his eyes glanced down at her dress, a deep red number that matched her shoes and her lipstick. Her shoulders were bare as the sleeves started around her upper arms and the silky fabric swayed when she moved. The way the dress curved around her hips was like a glove and she looked at him as his eyes found hers again. "You look beautiful." He said firmly, before blinking and pinching the bridge of his nose, "I need to go." He said suddenly, taking a step back. "I'll see you at home."

She began to protest but he was gone before she could get his name out.

She wandered around for awhile more, inspecting the pieces and finding herself engaged in the actual history of each piece. As she stepped into the last room, she felt a tap on her shoulder and turned to find a blonde woman eyeing her with a resigned expression on her face.

"You're Peggy Carter."

"Yes," she said slowly, "I am."

The woman in front of her laughed. "No wonder he turned me down, I would too if you were an option."

"I beg your pardon?"

The woman held out a hand, "I'm Lorraine, I work at the museum, I believe I emailed you 5 tickets a while ago?"

"Oh!" Peggy responded, "yes, yes you did! Thank you for that very much, by the way!"

Lorraine's eyes narrowed, but her face stayed pleasant. "He didn't tell you."

"Tell me what?"

"Steve. He arranged for you to get those tickets. Agreed to go on a date with me for them and everything."

She felt her mouth part in surprise and the woman chuckled at her response. "Don't worry, he's all yours. He turned me down flat, even after I offered a fling."

"He doesn't do flings." Peggy heard herself say.

The woman raised an eyebrow, "huh, he said the same thing."

"Why are you telling me this?"

The woman stared at the artwork around her and then back at Peggy, "I don't like to lose. Ever. So if I'm going to lose. It better be for a damned good reason. Like soulmates or some rubbish like that."

"Excuse me?"

"I saw the tabloid rag about you. Didn't realize it was Steve till I saw you talking at the entrance of the museum tonight. He's got it for you bad. Don't waste it."

"You've no idea what you're talking about." Peggy tried to say with firmness in her voice. "He doesn't—"

"Listen. I don't know you from Eve. But I know men. And he isn't like the rest of them. Don't. Waste. It."

She turned and was gone, leaving Peggy speechless and alone for the second time that evening.

—-

"Maybe I should come home early."

A silence on the other line.

"Buck?"

"Shit, Steve. It's that bad?"

It was his turn to not answer and he heard the long-suffering sigh of his best friend.

"Do you love her?"

"I don't know."

He heard Bucky audibly groan, "an 'I don't know' from you, is a 'hell yes' from anyone else."

"I gotta come home." Steve said, "I can't stay here."

"What about our job? Working there, restoring those pieces and getting them back to where they belong, isn't that your dream?"

Steve sighed, laying on his bed in his full tux. "Yes."

"Then don't leave. Stick it out and finish your assignment. It will all work out."

"Maybe I should find another place to live."

"And leave her in a lurch looking for a new tenant? No way, man."

Steve groaned, "what do I do? I'm making an idiot of myself here!"

The silence that he received from the other end made him sit back up.

"Maybe you should." Bucky finally said.

"Should what?"

"Give it a try."

"Buck!"

"You've been talking about this girl, basically non-stop, for the last 5 months. I've never heard you talk this much about anyone. So… as much as I hate what it could mean… maybe you deserve to give yourself the chance."

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"She's too good for me."

"Steve. I'm going to say this exactly once. No one is too good for you. You hear me? She's just right for you. I hate to admit it but it's true. So shut up about not being good enough."

"What if she doesn't want me?" He hated how insecure his voice sounded, and he waited for Bucky to tease him about it.

But he didn't. "Steve, she does. She wanted you after you punched that jerk in the bar, and she wanted you when you made her dinner all those times, and hell, she wanted you when you had her arms wrapped around you on the balcony of her house. Just try for pete's sake. Worse comes to worst, you break up and you come home soon anyways."

They talked for a bit more and then hung up. He laid in bed, thinking about all the ways that talking to Peggy could go wrong.

But his mind kept going back to what could be if it went right.

—

She found him asleep on his bed, still in his tux, only his shoes lined up by his closet.

She smiled at his sleeping frame and reached out, pushing his soft hair back and grazing his cheek bone with her finger.

He took a deep breath, his eyelids shifting as he dreamed and she sat for a few minutes more before walking quietly to her own bedroom and closing the door.

—

They lived as normal for the next few weeks, because Steve could never work up the courage to ask. Never could find the right words to show her that he wanted more.

And he still wouldn't draw her.

September started to fade and a constant dread about his time slipping away from him turned his stomach into knots.

—-

Peggy was disappointed that nothing happened after the gala. She was so sure that one of them would work up the courage to say something, but when Steve didn't, she couldn't bring herself too.

Maybe he'd just given her those tickets as a kindness. Steve was naturally very kind.

But his words would play over in her mind.

You're gorgeous when you're terrifying.

I know you can handle yourself.

You look beautiful.

She tried to stay focused, reminding herself that Steve was leaving in less than two months and starting something was not in either of their best interests.

So they danced around each other in a way. Talking and laughing and eating together, but never more than that. Never more than friends.

It left an ache in her chest to have him so near, so close she could reach out and kiss him, but unable— or unwilling to do so.

At first she thought she was imagining the longing looks, the glances he'd send at her when he didn't think she was paying attention. But she did notice. And each one told her that he felt the same. That they both wanted what the other was unwilling to initiate.

For good reason.

He was going home soon.

—-

Steve noticed that her door to her bedroom was left open more often. That she would stop by his door and talk to him at random and that they would get distracted and talk for hours.

Once he was working on a particular difficult research problem, trying to discover what area of Poland a picture had come from, when he turned to find her having fallen asleep in his bed.

He leaned over, gently curling a lock of her hair around his finger, like he'd wanted to do all those months ago.

And it would be so easy.

So easy to lean over and kiss her, right here, right now.

But the deadline of his departure hung over his head like a cloud and he leaned back. Pulling his hand back and letting the curl fall from it.

—

October slipped away and he began the process of packing. He'd finished his assignment at the museum and was now just helping to finish packing all the pieces there to be transported to their rightful homes.

It was a sad and almost cruel type of irony that he had to pack up two dreams at the same time.

—

Peggy tried not to let the cardboard boxes and large suitcases she saw in Steve's room engulf her in despair. She watched as the room she'd grown fond of sitting in and talking to him, grew more bare by the day.

She noticed that they both grew quieter as the day of his departure grew nearer.

When the last box was packed, and the last of his clothes were zipped up in a suitcase, he informed her that he was going to go say goodbye to Denier and a few other of the shop owners before he left the next day.

She nodded and watched as he walked out the door.

She found herself in his room. Drawers empty, pictures removed, bedding gone and all signs of Steve erased except the suitcases and boxes that seemed to mock her as she felt a lump in her throat.

—-

He slept fitfully that night. His mind warring with itself. He woke in fits and starts and finally gave up sleeping all together, instead creeping quietly up the stairs and out onto the terrace. He let the moonlight wash over him and the sleeping city as the cool night air pricked against his skin. He leaned his elbows on the old metal railing and watched as the street lamps illuminated the few passersby.

He should be excited to be going home. To see Bucky, and his friends… But all he felt was the realization of a missed opportunity for the love of a lifetime.

—-

She drove him to the airport, ignoring his protests that he could get a car. She pretended it was just her being a good housemate and not the fact that she wanted every last second with him that she could manage.

They arrived at the airport way too soon and slowly unloaded his things from the boot. Once they all were loaded onto a cart, they stood there awkwardly, neither willing to start the process of saying goodbye.

"If you're ever in Brooklyn—" he stated hoarsely, clearing his throat, "be sure to look my up."

"I will." She nodded, "and if you're ever back in London, you— you always have a place to stay."

He nodded and they stood there awkwardly again.

"I suppose this is goodbye." She said quietly, looking at the other travelers hugging their farewells.

"I guess so." Steve replied, even though his voice said he wished it was anything but.

Her throat was getting tight, so instead of saying anything else, she stepped forward and wrapped him in a hug. She felt his arms wrap around her tightly and pull her clothes. She felt a kiss press to the top of her head and she clutched at the back of his coat.

They stood there for a long moment, before she stepped back and nodded, "Goodbye, Steve."

He looked desperately at her, his mouth trying to form words and falling short. He sighed, "goodbye Peggy."

She waved as she stepped around her car and into the driver's seat.

He watched her pull away and only then did she let the tears start to fall.

—-

She made it not 15 seconds down the road before she slammed on her brakes and pulled the car to the curb. She yanked the keys out of the ignitions and practically leaped out of the car door. She waved at the security attendant who howled at her, but she didn't stop, running into the doors and searching for him. She grew desperate when she couldn't find him, and raced about, looking for his blonde hair.

She ran back out to her car, intending to grab her cell and call him, only to find him standing right outside, staring at her car.

"Steve?" She asked hoarsely.

He turned to her, eyes landing on her face, and a look that she'd never seen before crossed it. In an instant he was in front of her, his eyes pleading, "Ask me not to go," he said, his voice heavy and tone deep, "or tell me to stay." He closed his eyes for a moment before looking back at her, determination written clearly in his eyes, "whatever you do, don't let me leave."

She felt a dam break as she threw herself into his arms and hugged him so tightly he might have shattered. But he hugged her back just as fiercely and it only took a moment before she was gently tugging his face to hers and pressing her lips to his, breathing in the cologne that had settled in her house in a way that made it. Feel like home,

She felt him pull her up, holding her weight as her legs wrapped around his waist and he leveled their heights. His arms held her easily and she felt her back pressed against her car as they kissed until they were breathless. Eventually he rested his forehead against hers and she listened to the sounds of his ragged breathing.

"Don't you ever scare me like that again." She chastised, "I thought you were really going to leave."

His voice is quiet as he responds, "for a moment so did I. Thinking it was the right thing to do but… if it was right, why did I feel so miserable about it?"

She laughed, her own breathing matching his, "I'm glad you came to your senses."

"Just in the nick of time." He chuckled, kissing her again and then placing a soft kiss on her forehead. "You'd be okay extending my contract to stay?"

She saw the teasing in his eyes and raised an eyebrow, "well, I'll have to speak to the boss, but I'm sure an arrangement can be made."

"Good," he said firmly, "because you're going to have a hell of a time trying to get rid of me now."

She pressed a kiss to the tip of his nose and smiled, "is that a promise?"