May, 1948.

In which Steve and Peggy buy a couch.


"Are you sure this is alright, Peggy?" Steve asked as they got out of the car. "I mean, it's not something I really need—"

"Steve, if you don't stop acting like your existence is inconveniencing me, I shall send you back to 2023," Peggy replied.

Steve's cheeks colored and he huffed a laugh. "Sorry. I just feel bad showing up and making you spend all your money like this." Steve had arrived on her doorstep a week and a half ago with nothing but the clothes on his back and a compass in his pocket.

"Well, our options otherwise were either to have you wear the same shirt and trousers every day for the rest of your life or to just walk around naked. Spending the money for a new wardrobe seemed like a reasonable compromise, and it was hardly going to put me into the red," she said. And there had been something rather wonderful about sitting outside the fitting rooms and giving her opinions on the clothes he was trying on. It just felt so…normal. And the man really did look good in everything. That suit they'd gotten him in particular…While Peggy had always agreed that a man tended to look more dashing in a suit, until Steve stepped out of that fitting room, she'd never seen a man wear one so well as to make her want to rip it right off again.

She tilted her head to one side curiously as they walked toward the shop. "This whole thing about the money wouldn't be some sort of I'm-not-really-a-man-if-I'm-not-providing-for-my-little-woman thing that you picked up in the future, would it?" she asked. She was mostly teasing. They had each picked up some new little habits or quirks of personality in the other's absence, but were fast becoming comfortable with one another again. Neither of them had really changed that much, and something like that seemed very…un-Steve.

"No," Steve said, bristling a bit at the insinuation. "It's an I've-always-chipped-in-for-my-share-of-the-rent-and-the-bills thing, and now I just feel like a freeloader."

Peggy smiled and went up on her toes to kiss him (and she really should have started kissing him long before he jumped on the Valkyrie, because kissing Steve was one of the best feelings in the world). "You're not a freeloader," she said. "If nothing else, the way you cook would more than earn your keep." Steve chuckled at that and she kissed him again. "But it's not as though I'm going to kick you out if you don't contribute enough. I love you, Steve. I want you here."

Steve smiled at her, that radiant smile like sunshine that made her feel as giddy as a schoolgirl. "Hearing you say that is never going to stop being the best thing in the world," Steve said. He slid his arms around her waist and pulled her up against his chest and kissed her soundly. "I love you too," he breathed.

Peggy flung her arms around his neck and kissed him back, and hearing him say that was never, ever going to stop sending a thrill down her spine.

She smiled up at him as they pulled apart. "Now that that's settled," she said. "Shall we go buy a sofa?"

Steve laughed and nodded, slipping his fingers into hers as they headed for the door. Once they'd gotten things like clothes and shoes and the basic necessities sorted out, Peggy had started contemplating beyond the immediate future. They were planning to be married as soon as Steve had the proper paperwork, and they were planning on staying in Peggy's house, but some of the furniture needing updating from the needs of a single woman to the needs of a couple. The sofa was one of those. Hers was on the shorter side, and it would be nice if they had one long enough for Steve to be able to stretch out.

They managed to fend off an eager salesman, promising him they would summon him when they were ready. They walked around the showroom, testing out the furniture.

"This is one comfortable," Peggy said, settling back into a deep set of cushions.

"Yeah," Steve agreed, sitting down beside her. He eyed the pattern suspiciously. "Kind of ugly, though."

"I believe 'hideous' is the word you're after," Peggy said. It was comfortable, but the intense floral pattern was already giving her a headache. "I suppose reupholstery is always an option."

"How long does reupholstering take?" Steve asked, shifting positions and stretching out a bit more.

"I don't know, but we'd have to involve the salesman for that," Peggy said. "Let's try to find one that's comfortable and attractive."

They tested out a few more, and Peggy was having more fun than she would have thought doing something so…domestic. She'd never enjoyed this sort of thing before, but then, she'd never done it with Steve.

They spent a long time with the leather sofa. Steve was hesitant to be too complimentary, having seen the price tag, but Peggy could see how comfortable he found it. It was rather lovely.

"Eventually, the leather is going to start cracking," Steve pointed out. "Or it could get scratched, and there's not much to undo that. Maybe we should find something less high-maintenance."

"Alright," Peggy agreed. She could tell he liked it, but he was trying to talk them both out of it, and it was expensive. Especially since there were other things they needed too.

"Oh, now this is nice," Peggy said, sitting down on a cream-colored sofa hidden behind a pink one with an ornate wooden frame. "Steve, come and try this one."

"That is nice," Steve agreed, sitting next to her.

"Stretch out, see if you fit along it," she said.

"We don't own this couch; I can't put my shoes on it," he said, looking slightly scandalized.

"Well, then, take them off," she said, waving at his feet. "Go on, while the salesman's not looking."

Steve obliged, and he stretched out along the couch. There was room for him to lay out and just a bit more beside. It was wide enough that if Peggy snuggled up against him, she could fit too. "I think this is it," she said. "I've just had a mental image of you and me, Sunday afternoon naps just like this."

Steve grinned. "Let's get this one, then." He sat back up and slid his shoes on.

"Here," Peggy said, reaching for the tag dangling from the corner on a string. "It comes in these colors—should we go for the cream or pick something else?"

Steve eyed the color options. "This dark blue would match your living room better. And it might be more forgiving with stains and things."

"Blue it is," Peggy said. They summoned the salesman, and he rushed over eagerly.

"Oh, yes, a very fine choice," he assured them.

"Is it available in the blue without much wait?" Peggy asked.

"Yes, Ma'am," he said. "We do have the blue in stock in our warehouse, and it can be delivered tomorrow."

"How easy is it to clean?" Steve asked, inspecting one of the cushions.

"The material is machine-washable," the salesman said, addressing his remark to Peggy, even though Steve had asked the question. "Each cushion has a zipper along the back—discreetly hidden, of course, but opening fully enough to slide the cushion out easily and pop the cover in the wash. It will be very easy for you to take care of, ma'am."

"Actually, I'm the one who'll be cleaning it," Steve said, lifting up the cushion to look at the zipper. "But that's good to know. Thanks."

The salesman gaped somewhat at this pronouncement, and Peggy swallowed down the urge to laugh at his expression. He covered by saying he would go get them the paperwork for the delivery and departed. Peggy did laugh then, and Steve smirked, setting the cushion back in place.

"You enjoy doing that, don't you?" Peggy asked.

"A little," Steve admitted.

"A little?" she questioned.

"A lot," he amended. He grinned. "It's just so much fun."

"It really doesn't bother you?" she asked, referring to his taking on all the tasks of keeping house.

"It really doesn't," he assured her. "It…" He shrugged. "It's hard to explain. I mean, I don't care what people think of me doing it—I know it's the 40's, and I'm the man, and I'm sure there are people out there wondering what's wrong with me, staying in and keeping house while you work. I don't care about any of that. Maybe this is going to sound kind of silly, but the chance to get to do something so normal after the past thirteen years of my life…" He trailed off, not quite finding the words he wanted.

Peggy nodded. "I understand. And it's not silly. I'm rather enjoying all these 'normal' things too." She slid her arms around his waist and grinned. "Because I'm doing it with you."

Steve smiled and leaned down to kiss her. "Exactly. It's with you, and it's exciting, and…" He reached up and brushed the back of his fingers across her face. "Staying home and taking care of you, and being here to support you while you go out and do all this amazing stuff—it's exactly what I want to be doing. And I'm so unbelievably happy to get the chance to do it."

She smiled up at him and kissed him, not trusting herself to speak for a moment over the happy knot in her throat. It wasn't about the housework—if Steve had wanted to go out and find himself a job, then the housework would get figured out somehow. No, it was…She'd never once had to fight to prove herself with Steve, like she had with everyone else. Steve was the only man she'd ever met who'd wanted her for exactly who she was. It didn't surprise her that he felt that way, but hearing him say it made her feel so…valued. So loved. So…She'd gotten rather hardened over the past few years, everything she'd had to put up with, that she just wanted to tell him how very much it meant to her that he thought she was worth caring for and supporting, but she couldn't figure out a way to say it without sounding insulting. Because to him, well, of course she was.

She settled for hugging him tightly and kissing him soundly instead. She only pulled away from him at the embarrassed clearing of the throat of the salesman behind them, having returned with the papers.

"Thank you," she told him as she took the clipboard and smiled internally watching him wonder why she was handling the paperwork. Steve was right. It was rather fun. "While we're here," she said, filling out the information quickly. "Do you have any bedframes and mattresses you could show us?"

"Of course," he replied, taking back the clipboard and cheering at the prospect of another commission. "If you'll just follow me upstairs."

"Bedframes?" Steve asked as they headed for the stairs.

"Steve, I know you don't fit into the bed in guest room. You can't carry on sleeping curled up in a little ball until we get married."

Steve arched a curious eyebrow. "Okay, first of all, I'm plenty comfortable and I've slept in worse positions. Second, how did you know that?"

Peggy grinned. "It's hardly rocket science, darling; you're eight inches too long for that mattress. Besides," she added with a smile. "I had to go in there the other night to get something I'd forgotten in the closet and I saw you." It was, well, she'd felt bad that he was so cramped, but it was rather adorable.

Steve narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

"I'm a spy, Steve, I'm supposed to be sneaky," she said, answering the question she knew he was about to ask.

"Hmm," he mused, clearly still suspicious. To be honest, she was a little surprised she hadn't woken him. His hearing was very sharp, and after years as a soldier, she knew he slept lightly. It was a testament, perhaps, to how exhausted he still was after everything he'd been through.

"I know you're not going to be in the guest bed for that much longer," Peggy said, pulling the conversation back on course. "But I'd like you to be comfortable, and if anyone else ever uses that room, it would be nice to have a nice bed. We're also going to need one for my room—we're not both going to fit once you move in there."

"It would be nice if we both fit," Steve agreed. "Since the being together part would sort of be the whole point of me moving in there." He grinned. "And a good second bed is smart—I'm going to have to have somewhere to go if you snore."