Sparks, Flames, Embers

Chapter 8: Addicted

Peggy recalled a time when she had been able to say that sex with Jack had not changed their relationship one iota.

That was no longer the case.

It might have been maybe after that second or third time, but after that sexually charged week of feverish competition…forget about it.

She equated this change in her reaction to him to being like someone who has tried second or third rate crack and being able to honestly say that they could walk away from it, but then sampling the grade A pure stuff and as a result becoming the worst kind of junkie.

She wanted him. Like all the time.

Her first warning of this coming change should have been when she couldn't make it out the week before she was practically begging for it like a wanton bint in a semi-public area all over a piano. But a few days later when he had so willingly placed his trust in her and let her have her way like that with him, (and not just because he did not want to welch on a bet), that had been the point of no return.

And now? Now they were screwing like rabbits wherever and whenever they could.

The problem was the availability of their dorm rooms was becoming extremely limited.

Daniel banned them at least until Krzminski replaced his noise canceling headphones that he broke when he borrowed them, and Angie was making less frequent trips to see her family on the weekends the closer they got to midterms and was staying more and more in their dorm-suite to study.

They had needed to get pretty creative in locations whenever either one of them had the itch. (And both of them seemed to have been infected to poison ivy-level itchiness.) But Lehigh University was no Hogwarts. There were no secret passageways, convenient broom closets, or Rooms of Requirement.

There was a Mrs. Frye however, and she was as vigilant of the library as Argus Filch was the magical halls of Hogwarts. And when she had nearly caught them in one of the quiet reading rooms (she was not sure if the woman bought her story of trying to find her 'lucky earring' underneath Jack's table), they had tried to relocate to the little used study nook in her dorm building. It was notorious for having bad reception and internet, so hardly anyone ever went there.

But apparently that was exactly what Rose needed. No internet distractions.

Peggy had managed to hear the doorknob twisting just in time to pull Jack down on top of her right behind the couch and muffle his curse.

It took them several moments to gain the courage to take advantage of Rose's rustling through her bag and pulling out spiral paper notebooks and textbooks (old school dame she was) and stealthily crawl to the door to make their escape.

Thankfully, her formidable resident advisor's dire warnings of the fate that awaited anyone who disturbed her had cleared the hallway. So they were able to straighten their clothes and hair. And perhaps to any passerby the tension between them would be mistaken for their usual competitive spats rather than that of angsty sexual frustration.

As soon as they were outside and less likely to be overheard, Peggy muttered irritably (yes, muttered, not whined), "If we can't have sex what do we do now? Go to a movie?"

Jack stopped looking at his reflection and attempting to flatten his thoroughly raked through by her fingers hair to shoot her a surprised look. "What? Like a date?"

His surprised tone hurt a little. Well, like a lot. It seems she had fallen like most girls into the trap that just because a guy wanted you a lot sexually then that meant that he wanted you. How in the world had she forgotten that this was Her-and-Jack? He wanted the pain in the ass woman, the bitch who has been a thorn in his side for two years, for something more than a quick roll in the sack? As if.

To cover up the pain she felt and to move past the awkward silence that had grown between them, she shrugged and with all the indifference that she could muster, she said, "It's that or study it seems."

She couldn't quite look him in the eyes though, so she didn't see his reaction, but she certainly heard it in the incredulity of his hissed:

"'Study'? I am not your study-buddy Daniel, Marge."

"No, you're my fuck-buddy Jack, Jack."

She meant to hiss it right back, to make it biting, but she didn't have the energy for it anymore, their game. So it came out more as a tired sigh, with perhaps a far too revealing hint of longing.

Jack said nothing, not for several long agonizing moments, which meant that he had picked up on that hint. Of course, he had. Jack Thompson, Dooley's favorite student, was no slouch in the being observant department.

She frantically scrambled for some way to extricate herself gracefully from this mortifying situation, but it was to no avail. And then…

"So date it is then."

She froze. He had said that so evenly that she couldn't tell if it was said out of pity, resignation, guilt, obligation, desire, or whatever other reason he might offer this lifeline of an invitation. She wished she had been looking at him – was looking at him – so that she could tell. But she couldn't. She was frozen.

She was goddamn Peggy Carter, former top student of the Law department, in the running for Valedictorian at Lehigh University next year, and the winner of The Most Badass of the Annual Charity Games event. But she could not do relationships and feelings to save her life.

And then…

And then Jack saved her from herself. With a light nudge of his shoulder against hers, he unfroze her, and when he helpfully suggested, "Sherlock's playing…", she was able to look up and meet his eyes.

In those crystal blue pools, she did not see a drop of pity. Nor was there a look of resignation at finally being suckered into the dating ritual that most guys viewed as boring foreplay. Nor was there resentment at the belief that she had guilted him into finally complying with this ritual.

No, she saw hope. And a hint of wistfulness. So…

"The Robert Downey Jr version?" she asked, unable to keep from wrinkling her nose.

"No the modern day BBC one. It's one of those Fathom Events." At her relieved look, he smirked, "Not an Iron Man fan?"

She chuckled, more with relief that they were talking superficial stuff like graphic novels and movies than the more dangerous subjects like relationship defining, and answered equably, "No, I favor Captain America myself."

Jack snorted, but wisely only chose to say, "I am more of a Thor man."

"Of course you are," she scoffed, and reveling in the fact that they were on more familiar ground, she teasingly added, "He carries the biggest stick doesn't he?"

Jack too seemed more sure-footed. He was certainly back to his smart-mouth ways as he retorted, tongue-in-cheek and blue eyes dancing, "I wouldn't know. Avengers is not Deadpool. It's a kid-friendly audience, no full frontals."

She shoved him and spluttered, "You know what I mean."

"Yeah, yeah, before we argue interrogation techniques again…" Jack paused to bat at her now animated hands pacifyingly, even as he nervously asked, "I'll pick you up at 8?"

She shook her head. His car was way too noticeable. "I'll meet you there."

There was a fleeting look of disappointment, but he nodded his agreement, "Okay."

That fleeting look of disappointment made her wonder…so many things, but she was afraid to fall into that quagmire of thinking, so she cut it off before it could take root and briskly stated, "Okay. See you at 8."

And then she spun on her heel and marched herself right back to her dorm.

~A~

Peggy made it as far as her room, even as far as to standing in front of her closet, before she panicked.

She needed to talk to someone. She needed that someone to slap her silly but not judge.

Angie was in the next room, but she couldn't go to her. The reasons for not talking to Angie about this at all were still the same, but now perhaps even worse. Not only was she not ready to give explanations for the why's of what she was doing with Jack – whatever the hell it was now – but she was also extremely not yet ready to say to certain someones that it was now more than 'I just want to bloody fuck his brains out'.

Daniel knew of them. But she couldn't go to him either. It would be weird to spaz out to her ex about her first date with the guy she has been screwing for the past few weeks, who just also happened to be his roommate. Oh yeah, and he was his roommate, so no way was she going to voice her breakdown to the one person that Jack could potentially eavesdrop on.

She plopped to the ground before she passed out and pulled out her phone, scrolling through her contacts, looking for a possible name.

And right there, in the A's was – Ana.

Ana was non-judgmental, and she was certainly unafraid to tell it like it is. But if she told Ana, she would tell Jarvis. That's just how that disgustingly sweet couple worked.

As soon as she thought of Edwin, she knew that was the one person she wanted to tell – had wanted to tell. She didn't care if at first he disapproved or gushed or admonished. She knew that eventually he would calm down and hear her out. And that was exactly what she needed.

So she called him.

"Yes, Peggy?"

That wasn't the first thing he said to her. He had said hello, but when her only response was her still panicked breathing, it was no wonder he was concerned.

"I have to tell you something."

"Okay…"

"But you have to promise to keep it a secret."

When he began to hedge, she cut him off, "You can tell Ana. I don't mind. But you can't tell Howard or anyone else."

"Okay. I promise."

And because he had not hesitated more than a millisecond, she returned the favor.

"I am going on my first date tonight with Jack, and I have been physically intimate with him repeatedly for the past several weeks."

This time the pause was significantly longer, but eventually Jarvis cautiously inquired, "By 'physically intimate' do you mean…?"

"Sex, yes," she curtly answered.

There was yet another pause, and then an apologetic, "I'm sorry, Peggy, but if you are hoping that I will be your confessor tonight, I am feeling woefully inadequate. Not only am I not ordained, but I am struggling to wrap my head around this."

She wanted to say 'me too', but she was going to wait for him to recover before she hit him with that emotional baggage. So instead, she did her best to be reassuring, "I don't need a confessor, just a friend."

"Well that I can do," he asserted with some relief, only adding with hesitant curiosity, "But if you don't mind, I just have to know."

"Know what?"

"If this has been going on for weeks, how has no one else found out? Especially your roommates?"

She laughed. She couldn't help herself. If he only knew how many times she had asked that herself when Angie had nearly caught them, and Daniel, well…

"Angie's pretty busy," she reasoned, "And Daniel and all of the frat house know already. But they aren't going to tell Howard. Jack has had them swear it on whatever SSR Bro-Code Bible they have."

"Oh." Jarvis took a moment to puzzle over this, and then he asked more business-like, "So what can I do for you as a friend, Miss Carter?"

Taking a deep breath, she blurted, "What does a girl wear on a first date with a guy she has been screwing for weeks and with whom she has such a complicated history with?"

"Well, that is more of a question for Ana, but as she is away at night class, I will do my best."

~A~

Daniel had never been more relieved to hear his phone buzz from an incoming call.

If he did not leave that room right that minute, he would be in serious danger of losing his man-card (as defined by the chauvinistic SSR Bro-code).

Jack had come barreling into their common room ranting and raving like a mad man, starting off with wanting a drink but not wanting a drink "because then I'll keep drinking and be drunk, and then what will she think of me?" and then from there it proceeded to the worst case of sober word vomit he had ever heard.

"And why-oh-why Danny did I ask Carter out on a date? I'll tell you why – because I am a greedy bastard who wants more than just mind-blowing sex with a hot woman. But this isn't just any hot woman. This is Carter. And what if I mess this up? I may put on a brave face but I am a nervous wreck half the time" (He certainly was now) "because underneath it all, I know my old man is right and that I am nothing but a screw up. And Daniel, I asked her out to Sherlock. She seems to have seen it already. Of course, she has. It's on Netflix. Most girls I know would rather I take them to something new, or at least romantic. But Carter isn't like most girls…"

And so it went. And no matter how much, he tried to reassure the man, Jack found something else to panic over.

So yeah, Daniel was in danger of squealing with 'girlish' glee, because if Jack was losing his shit over this, then he actually cared for Peggy. A more sobering thought was that if Peggy had this much power over him now, and they actually started to admit how crazy they were for each other? Then Jack was the one who was at risk of becoming heartbroken.

The second his bedroom door is closed, he answered his phone, greeting Jarvis with "I take it you know?"

"About a certain unlikely couple going to see The Abominable Bride?"

With a huge sigh of relief and a wicked grin, he asked, "How good are you at sneaking into theaters?"

"Mr. Sousa, 'Stealthy' is my middle name."