What a Difference a Day Makes
Margaret Carter had been raised in a proper household, she had gotten into good schools, had gone on to succeed in the world. Margaret Carter did not disappoint her family and more importantly herself, and she hadn't. Although, this morning dramatically changed her outlook on life with that stick, ultimately finding herself here… and pregnant.
Even she could admit that the timing wasn't great, and yes, her husband was most certainly the love of her life and was undoubtedly going to be a phenomenal father but that didn't change the fact that she was the newly minted Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. with almost everyone wanting to see her fail. She continued this contemplation in the office's bathroom as she nervously tapped the pregnancy test against her crimson nails. She wasn't naturally a worrier but having a baby: after starting one of the highest risk jobs in the world less than a year ago and with her parents almost 6,000km away combined with the 8-hour flight would get to anyone - even someone as rationally minded as her. After another 15 minutes she stood up and returned to her office as if her life hadn't just been altered in that bathroom.
The clock finally ticked around to 5 with astonishingly slow progress, it felt like a lifetime since she had rushed into her bathroom while her best friend, turned executive assistant, Angie Martinelli had been holding back her hair. This was then followed by a sudden realisation that it hadn't just been bad food and Angie being sent to the closest pharmacy. Fortunately, the drive home gave Peggy time to consider how she was going to tell Steve and think about the practical ramifications of having this child - both she and Steve enjoyed their work and there was no way she was subscribing to the sexist notion that she should stop work - as much as Thompson, being the pig-headed jerk he was, would love it. Which left the question of who their child could be trusted with due to the notoriety of both herself and her husband, neither set of grandparents were options as her parents still lived in England (and had absolutely no desire to move to Washington D.C. and were less than thrilled that she had) while Steve's had died before she had even met him. Not to mention the fact that they would need to get a bigger house and another car as her husband would no longer be riding his motorcycle all the time.
Making it home was strange, despite the weight of her day and her discovery remaining on her shoulders. On the other hand, the joy of smelling her favourite pasta sauce from the kitchen and hearing her husband's voice singing along to the radio almost relieved the tension she had been feeling since that second pink line appeared. Locking the front door behind her, she proceeded to hang up her coat and kick her shoes into the same closet making a mental note to take them upstairs later. The clicking of the door from the hallway to the kitchen as she closed it alerted Steve to her arrival as he stopped chopping herbs and turned to face her.
'Hey Peg, how was your day?', he said with a bright smile as he quickly took the 5 steps needed to cross the length of their little kitchen in order to envelop her in his arms and leaned in for a quick kiss.
'It was fine, darling,', she tried to smile up at him with the same enthusiasm he had, but she knew, and he noticed that the smile didn't reach her eyes. He took a step back from her but kept his hands carefully on her shoulders. Looking to her eyes even though she refused to meet his gaze, he took a measured breath.
'Peggy, babe, please tell me the truth clearly something or someone, God help them, is bothering you.'
'You're right, something is bothering me. However, I don't want to talk about it right now - and honestly l really want to sit down and enjoy dinner. I promise, l will tell you I'm just tired right now', and with that she poured herself a glass of water and left through the other door bypassing the fully laid table, setting the glass on the coffee table instead before lying down on the sofa and closing her eyes with a hand to her temple. Steve watched as she walked away from him but was concerned when she continued past the table and into the living room. She'd come home from work frustrated before, but he had never seen her like this before, not even during the war had he seen her this conflicted.
About 10 minutes later he carried the two plates through and called out Peggy's name before placing them down and returning to the kitchen to retrieve the bottle of wine that had been chilling in the fridge. Coming through the door a second, he was slightly alarmed to see that Peggy hadn't moved a millimetre. He hastily put the wine on the table and rushed to her side.
'Babe, wake up', he said softly as he stroked a loose curl from across her face back behind her ear, carefully not to let is growing concern ebb into his voice. She mumbled at the same time as she pressed her head in towards his hand and her eyes fluttered open.
'Steve?'
'Yes, Peggy'
'I promise l didn't mean to fall asleep,' she paused and he could see her brow furrow slightly as she collected her thoughts, 'did you say something?'
'Only that the food is ready'
Steve pulled her chair out at the table and as he went to pour them each a glass of wine, he was a little shocked when his wife placed her hand over her glass, especially after what seemed to be such a rough day at S.H.I.E.L.D. He turned his head to look at her, pleased that this time she was meeting his gaze but rather than explaining she just shook her head and gave him a faint little smile.
After this dinner proceeded as normal, Peggy complimenting his superb cooking particularly the home baked bread he had made to be served today for her favourite meal. It wasn't until they were stacking the plates that she suddenly dropped the cutlery she was holding on to the plate below with a loud clatter and ran out of the room flinging open the door as she rushed down the hallway. Steve stood there speechless; his brain unable to process what had just happen. A couple of seconds passed before he dropped what was in his hands and chased after his wife.
He found her hunched over the toilet in the tiny room at the end of the hallway. Still struggling to comprehend the situation he just held back his wife's hair with one hand while rubbing calming circles on her back, humming, and doing his best to console her (he was painfully aware in this moment that he had only ever had the experience of being the victim of illness, never the caregiver even now as Peggy barely ever got sick and never like this before).
'I don't understand why they call it morning sickness if it happens all day long, gives a girl false hope!' Peggy grumbled to no one in particular, not seeing Steve's sudden transition from looking around the little room for a hair band to drilling a hole into the back of her skull with an intense gaze.
'Babe, what did you just say', he didn't know if he should believe his ears, but his heart soared regardless, and simultaneously his stomach tightened into knots.
'I said they give a girl false hope thinking this will only last in the morning. And I suspect it's going to be a long 9 months,' she continued to mutter and grumble but Steve didn't register it as his brain rapidly put two and two together and realising it equalled a baby.
When he finally did speak, all he could manage to say was 'Peggy, you're pregnant...?' which earned him a searing eye roll that he was fortunate not to see and then his wife's reply, deeply sardonic and with her typical English tone,
'Yes, Steve'
