Day 5: Domestic Bliss

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The sun had already slipped below the horizon by the time Steve Rogers got home. Fading gold and crimson glory spread across the sky as he fumbled with his keys, letting himself in. The house was quiet as he stepped inside; Peggy was either out, or too preoccupied with something to discover he'd returned home. Moving silently, he carefully set his briefcase by the door and then hung up his hat and overcoat.

"Peggy?" he asked, voice hushed in the stillness of the house. He didn't receive a reply - had hardly expected one. Keeping his steps silent, he slipped into the front room. There he stopped, warmth flooding his chest, smile slowly spreading across his face.

The lamp was on, and in the warm pool of light, Peggy curled on the couch. Her hair tumbled over the cushions, and a book lying facedown on the carpet testified her occupation before she had fallen asleep. For she was - deeply, profoundly asleep.

Moving quietly, Steve set down his keys on the end table and crossed to her side. Pushing back her hair tenderly, he stooped and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. She stirred a little, mumbled something, but remained asleep. She really had been wearing herself out these days, what with founding the new, yet-to-be-named successor to the SSR.

She deserved a break.

Moving quietly into the kitchen, he rummaged in the pantry for a couple cans of soup, and then got down on his knees to go through the cupboard to find a pot. He actually got it out with a minimum of clattering, for which thing he was very proud. Setting the soup on the stove to heat, he found the potatoes and slipped them into the oven.

There. Dinner. Nothing fancy, and there wasn't any meat, but it would do.

Returning to the front room, Steve sat down in his easy chair, stretched out his legs, and spent a minute just watching her - his sweetheart, his wife, the love of his life. How had he ever managed without her? How had he ever been lucky enough to convince her to spend the rest of her life with him?

Peggy shifted a little, red-tipped fingers curling beneath her cheek. She looked almost childlike - innocent, at peace.

Steve's fingers itched for a pencil. He looked around for several moments before finding one that had fallen off the coffee table and rolled under the rug. Then, on the back of the nearest piece of paper available, he began tracing her dearly beloved outline for the thousandth-and-first time.

It had all happened so fast, looking back. After he'd been rescued from the Arctic - the news called it a "heroic rescue mission" posted by the Commandos and backed by Howard Stark - he had returned home to New York for recovery and debriefing. Peggy had followed him.

Steve's pencil danced along the curve of his wife's rosy cheek, softly shading in the shadow of her dark lashes. He smiled, remembering.

They'd had their dance - and then several more - and then he'd been summoned to the Pacific Theater. It was unorthodox, but the war was still in full force down there, and the men could use some hope.

Two days after the summons came, they were married. Mrs. Barnes had made the wedding breakfast, the Commandos bought the drinks for after, and then the bride and groom had enjoyed one thoroughly precious week at one of Howard's homes in California before he'd shipped out.

By the time he returned to the States, Peggy had got herself neck-deep in intrigue and scandal at the SSR. Ever since, they'd been making the most of their newly-gained civilian status. Steve had used the GI Bill to go to college, and spent the time taking as many law courses as he could fit alongside his actual area of study. Peggy, on the other hand, stayed with the SSR, working with them even as she made arrangements with the government for a more permanent, long-term program to succeed it.

And now - now here they were. Steve felt the corners of his mouth lift automatically

as he penciled in the shape of the wedding ring on his wife's hand. He'd loved her with all his heart when he had first placed that ring on her finger - but she had grown infinitely more dear to him with every passing day since.

The soft, dark waves of her hair were fun to draw. Steve drew them with long, bold strokes, paying special attention to the way the finer hairs curled at her temples. Then her left eyebrow - and just a little more attention to those eyelashes…

The eyelashes in question fluttered suddenly, and then Peggy blinked both eyes open blearily and looked at him for a minute.

"Oh. Hello."

Her voice was soft and contented and still slightly slurred from sleep - she wasn't entirely awake yet. Steve grinned and laid aside his sketch, scooting from his chair to the floor beside her.

"Hey," he said quietly, reaching out to brush those tempting curls with his fingers. She hummed sleepily and tipped up her face to be kissed, which he did with a right good will.

"Didn't know you were home," she added, looking rather more awake after his kiss. Then she looked around, saw the darkness of the sky outside the windows, and blinked in hazy consternation, pushing herself up onto her elbows. "What time is it?"

Steve shrugged. "Don't know. Eight, maybe? I put some soup and potatoes on - should be about ready, if you're hungry."

Her eyebrows puckered endearingly, her cheeks still adorably flushed with sleep. "Soup and potatoes isn't enough to hold you over."

He ducked his head with a somewhat sheepish air. "I may have put in six or seven potatoes. It'll be fine."

Peggy's eyebrows rose to her hairline. "'Fine,' he says," she soliloquised. "Darling, you'll be up at three in the morning eating all the peanut butter again, trying to tide yourself over to breakfast." She shook her head, yawning as she sat up. "There's some leftover pot roast in the fridge - I'll make up a gravy. That'll help a little."

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The gravy was thick and hot, with chunks of beef. Peggy was right - it would definitely help keep him satisfied until morning. Feeding a supersoldier appetite was a constant series of trial and error, now that they were both civilians and no longer eating army-issued rations. They both deliberately tried to eat slowly - the habit of bolting their food was one they'd both acquired during the war, and were constantly trying to break.

Over the steaming potatoes and gravy and soup, they chatted about their day. Peggy had been involved in a series of negotiations about the title of the new organization to replace the SSR, though nothing had as yet been decided. "I prefer the Logistics and Strategy Administration myself," she explained, blowing lightly on her soup to cool it. "Although Phillips is arguing for the National Enforcement and Scientific Division."

"I like the Civilian Protection Administration," Steve argued, gesturing with his fork. "Protection - that's what we're supposed to be all about. Ordinary, everyday guys putting a shield between ourselves and our enemies, preserving our freedoms."

Peggy's eyes suddenly sparkled. "Speaking of shields, I should take yours in to the negotiations tomorrow and use it to make my point. Maybe we could finally get past this superficial business of names and get down to the real work."

The image of Peggy wielding the starry shield at a table full of bureaucrats and stuffed shirts made Steve grin. "You should," he retorted. "I'd pay good money to see that."

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He was washing up the dishes later when she came up behind him. Paper crackled in her hands.

"Steve. Have you been drawing on the back of the gas bill again?"

Twisting to look over his shoulder, he came face to face with the drawing he'd been doing of his wife while she was asleep. On the other side, where Peggy's thumb held it half folded over, he could see numbers.

"Um. I plead the fifth?"

She poked him in the ticklish spot along his ribs, and he jumped, laughing breathlessly and splashing dishwater onto the counter. "I don't think whoever drew on that knew it was the gas bill," he defended himself, grinning despite his best efforts at a poker face. "It was just the first paper within reach."

Peggy's lips were pursed with an exasperated fondness, but her eyes were very tender as she looked down at his simple drawing. Steve always laid his whole heart out in everything he drew - and it was plain to whoever looked that the artist was very, very much in love with the woman in the sketch.

Without a word, she laid down the paper and drew nearer to him, putting both arms around him and laying her head over his heart. Steve held his hands out to the sides, not wanting to get her dress wet, but he did bow his head and lay first his cheek and then his lips against her hair, breathing in the quiet peace and intimacy of the moment.

"I love you," she whispered after a moment.

"I love you too," he answered, voice low, heart very full with gratitude. He never could have dreamed marriage would be this good - not in a thousand years.

Peggy's head shifted, and then she looked up at him, resting her chin against his chest. "Then why are you so far away?"

Steve lifted both eyebrows very innocently, and then gestured with his still dripping hands. "Don't want to get you wet, and I can't reach the dish towel."

She stood on her toes, pressing up closer to him until her laughing, dancing eyes filled his whole world. "The dress can handle it," she promised.

He beamed down into her face, and then wrapped her up in his arms and kissed her with all of his heart. They held each other close, whispering softly, until the dishwater was quite, quite cold. And then - then Peggy reached for the dishtowel, and Steve ran more hot water, and they finished the dishes together.

Because somehow, in the light of their love and happiness, even the most mundane of duties became moments worth cherishing.

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This one shot is a gift to the wonderful DocMui, who so very kindly had some lovely art commissions done for scenes from two of my other stories, Sarcophagus and Cradle. Check out his Tumblr account at greenjacketwhitehatdocmui to see some of the other neat pictures and things he posts!

I intended to post this for the domestic prompt yesterday - but it's late because ironically I, like Peggy, actually fell asleep on the couch while I was proofreading it, and didn't wake up until it was way too late to do anything but stumble into bed. :P

Today's prompt will be up as soon as I can get it whipped into shape!