Moments
Unforgettable
~The Dress~
Peggy:
She stared at herself in the mirror. And did not recognize the girl whose image was reflected back at her.
Unlike the time she had similarly stood examining herself in wedding finery in 1939, she was not bothered by the truth she saw but the lie she did.
Then, what she had seen was a girl who was not being true to herself – a girl who played it safe for the sake of a man's 'good' opinion.
Now, she saw a blushing bride, nervous for the upcoming 'Event' of her life.
She, Peggy Carter soon-to-be Thompson, was not a blushing bride. She was not nervous. And this was not 'The Event of Her Life'.
She was confident. She was excited and therefore flushed. She wanted to stride down that petal-bestrewn aisle and lay claim to her man. She wanted to get this society-required ritual over with so that she could start her next adventure with Jack, her partner. It would be an adventure that she was sure to be filled with many events – some good, some bad, but all with him.
As impatient as she was though, she did have to admit she looked damn fine in her dress.
It was white satin with ivy pattern stitching and long sleeves. The neck-line was a deep V-neck with a wide collar. The bodice hugged her curvy form down to her hips, where it flared out and fell in a bell-shape with a small train behind her. Her veil was lace and hung from a coronet of silk flowers. Her something borrowed was her mother's pearl necklace.
One of the best features (she had to agree with Angie on this) was that it was easy to get out of – more importantly to be helped out of.
And with that rather risqué thought, she really did blush.
~.~
Jack:
He knew the highlight of most weddings, the thing that everyone wanted to know about at any of these blasted shindigs was the dress.
Later, he probably could describe what his beautiful bride was wearing, but for the life of him, at this moment, when he was first seeing her in it, he could not tell you a darn thing.
Well, it was white. But it could have been a white flour or potato sack for all he took note of it.
No, instead, all he could see or care about was her.
She was breath-taking, her smile was radiant, and her brown eyes were fierce as she locked her gaze with his.
In them, he could see that she shared his sentiment.
And it was all he could do not to stride up the aisle and wrap her up in his arms. Even when she was finally at his side and her father placed her hand in his, it took every ounce of self-control he had, not to swallow her up in his embrace and crinkle her finery before shouting his vows for all the world to hear and then dashing out the side-door with her in tow.
She must not have been wearing a potato sack, or else he just might have attempted it.
~The Ceremony~
Peggy:
The ceremony was beautiful – or so everybody told her afterwards.
She herself could not recall much of it. It must have gone according to plan, because she was sure she would have noticed awkward pauses or nervous giggles or tittering if there had been any.
She did remember the reciting of her vows. She remembered the crooked smirk of Jack's as she stuck to 'love and honor' rather than to 'love and obey'.
She remembered getting misty-eyed at his fierce declaration to 'love and honor' her 'all the days' of his life.
When they had been choosing the wording of their vows neither one of them had wanted to even allow Death the power to sunder them.
She remembered the giving of the rings, the tenderness with which he slid hers onto her finger and the immense satisfaction she got at placing her platinum mark of her eternal claim to him on his finger.
She definitely remembered the kiss.
As soon as Father Allen gave Jack permission, he swept her up in his arms and staked his claim for all to see.
It was a slow but passionate kiss that was filled with promises.
~.~
Jack:
He didn't remember much of the ceremony.
But he did remember Peggy.
He remembered the feel of her soft warm hand in his.
He remembered the rapid beating of her pulse that he could detect beneath his thumb's gentle caress.
He remembered how soft but confident her voice sounded as she declared her vows, how her eyes dared him to laugh or challenge her as she chose the word 'honor' over 'obey' (as if he could actually believe that would ever happen by now).
He remembered seeing the tears pooling in her dark eyes at his vowing to love her always. He remembered silently promising to try to never be the cause of unhappy tears. If such a feat was at all possible, if he wasn't such a flawed man, he might have voiced such a vow aloud then and there.
He remembered sliding her wedding band on her finger and seeing with satisfaction how well it looked next to his Gam-Gam's ring. He had chosen that ring because out of all the marriages he knew his grandparents' was the one that was filled with love. Theirs had been a true partnership, one that was about equality and honesty, rather than image. And that was what he wanted for him and Peggy.
He remembered the territorial gleam in her brown eyes as she slid his band on his finger. It did things to him that he only thought was fair that she experience as well, so he retaliated with his kiss.
He remembered noting that not only was her dress white but it also felt satiny beneath his fingers as he gathered her to him. He also remembered noting that while her lips tasted as divine as usual, they were pliant and unresisting. He took full advantage of that, knowing that this was indeed a rare occasion.
Most of all, he remembered her breathless gasp of 'I love you' over the cheering of their audience as soon as he broke away and her soft laughter when he returned the sentiment, 'And I, you'.
Most importantly, he remembered their witty barbed exchange out of the corners of their smiling mouths that let him know that this was not all just a dream:
'Well, you bloody well better, as you are stuck with me for life, dear-heart.'
'Mrs. Thompson, there isn't a prettier and more loved ball-and-chain out there.'
'Damn straight. And don't you forget it.'
'Never.'
~The Honeymoon~
Peggy:
Seven blissful days later, she woke to the glorious sight of her husband sprawled next to her.
The sun was streaming through the windows of their vineyard bungalow as if it was as eager to kiss his skin and touch his golden strands of hair as she was.
He was a tantalizing temptation spread out like that with their bed's sheets lying low on his hips. His pale form was slightly tanned now, as they had not spent their entire week indoors exploring one another. (They had also gone on walks and explored the vineyards and the paths down to the beach and even the nearby picturesque little town.) Jack even had a few more freckles – each of which were calling to her to kiss them.
"Woman, thy name is Succubus. Insatiable, you are," he drawled sleepily.
"Are you really complaining?" she chuckled huskily.
Rolling over so that he could throw his arm across her and tug her closer into his side, he mumbled mid-yawn, "No, j-j-ust no-noting a fact."
"Good."
She lay there peacefully next to him, enjoying the feel of him – all warm and firm and hers.
She enjoyed knowing that the initial awkward discomfort of getting to know one another intimately in a physical way was mostly over.
And it had been awkward. Noses had been bumped, knees had gone in the wrong places, and un-arousing caresses and positions had been discovered. But they had persevered with their good humor intact.
She loved that she could lay there and be content, with no more walls, emotional or otherwise, between them.
She loved that for once she could be confident in a relationship, that she knew that even though their idyllic, unforgettable vacation from the world was almost over – their bond was stronger than ever.
She loved him, Jack Thompson, her husband, her friend, her partner.
"You purr any louder, and I will expect you to sprout fur, mein Kätzchen."
"Well, kiss me, and maybe you can keep your kitten quiet, mein Kuschelbär," she challenged.
With a heavy sigh, he rolled over again so that he was on his back and she lay sprawled on top of him, her hands intertwined with his above his head, their noses barely brushing one another.
And then with matching huskiness, he breathed, "As my lady-wife commands," just as his lips thoroughly lay claim to hers.
Bloody hell, she loved this infuriating man. And she would love him forever.
~.~
Jack:
He had never been so happy to be pelted by foodstuff than when their wedding guests had bombarded them with rice in their final send-off.
He had never been so happy than when he and his Marge had become man and wife in every sense, when he could kiss every inch of her and only need to stop when she told him to (which she hadn't, rather he had distinctly heard her say 'more' quite demandingly, multiple times).
Even if their love-making hadn't been the smoothest of sailings, it had been them together.
His Marge had been just as insatiable as he was, and more than adventurous.
God, he loved her.
He loved that he could wake up to her every morning and just hold her, morning breath and all.
He loved that she had yet to run screaming from their little vineyard bungalow, from him.
He loved … oh there were too many ways to count.
And finally, he had never been so happy as when he had carried her over the threshold into their new little two-bedroom house. For when he had announced, "Honey, we're home," she had looked into his eyes and with all earnestness had declared:
"Jack, when I am with you, I am always home."
"Damn straight, Mrs. Thompson," he had declared with a low growl before ensuring his wife and partner never forgot this essential fact.
~A~
And so began the (mostly) ever-so-happy adventure of Mr. Carter - (beg pardon) - Mr. Thompson and his Marge.
A/N: Stay tuned for the epilogue.
