Steve wakes early in the morning, energy whirring through him. He dresses on his own, waving Thompson off, and slips down the stairs, finding the coffee pot and setting it to boil. Then he grabs an apple and a muffin left over from yesterday, eats it, and heads out onto the back half of the property.
He tosses the apple core into the snow and takes a deep breath.
The air is crisp around him, but he feels his own body radiating heat. His eyes trail the forest and his smiles, taking off.
—-
Peggy wakes to the sound of Lorraine bringing in her morning tea. She smiles and sits up, picking up the pot and enjoying the aroma as she pours it.
"Is Mr. Rogers up?" Peggy asks.
"Yes, ma'am."
"Is he going to join me for breakfast in the dining room?"
"I don't know. He's outside at the moment ma'am."
Peggy's eyes go to the window where frost coats the pane of glass and she huffs in surprise, "he's out in the cold?"
The predatory way Lorraine smiles makes Peggy bristle. "Yes, ma'am."
She dismisses her and waits til she's gone before slipping out of bed and going towards the window. She looks out, searching and almost gasping in surprise at Steve running along the back fence. She's more taken aback when he leaps, grasping a branch high above his head and climbs quicker than should be possible, before leaping to the tree next to it.
She watches in awe as he travels through the trees before dropping down and taking another lap around the yard.
Peggy stands there the whole time, enraptured as he moves with a speed and agility and even a grace she can't understand to be humanly possible.
Eventually he starts to make his way to the house and she moves away from the window, mind replaying his display of athleticism.
—
Steve walks into the kitchen, face flushed and heart pumping.
"Will you be eating in the dining room, sir?" Ms. Nancy asks as he walks through the kitchen.
"Yes, please." He responds happily, "is everything okay in the kitchens, do I need to run any errands for you?"
The older woman looks at him with an amused huff, "You've been doing enough running already today, sir. Should you be working so hard after being so ill?"
Steve smiles easily, "I feel fine. I promise if I need to take a break I will. Would you mind making a bit of extra food for breakfast?"
She raises an eyebrow at him but nods and begins puttering around the kitchen again.
He practically runs to the stairs, racing up them and flying through the halls until he enters his rooms. He bathes and changes for the morning and exits his room feeling refreshed.
He notices that Peggy's room door is open and smiles. She must already be down stairs. He feels excitement at seeing her again. But he pauses, taking a deep breath and reminding himself that he should not get too attached. He wants to help her, and to help her means to send her home.
He tries not to let that disappointment rear its head. It's the right thing to do, and he makes a promise to himself right then and there to do right by her.
—
She watches as he enters the dining room and she feels stunned to think he looks different again. Like on their 'honeymoon' she felt like she saw subtle changes each day, but today the change seems striking. She just can't put her finger on it.
He sits down next to her and the smile he gives her is so kind and gentle that she feels herself respond with equal fervor.
"Good morning, Ms. Carter."
"Good morning, Mr. Rogers." They smile again as Ms. Nancy enters with the plates. She sets them before them and asks if they need anything else.
They shake their heads 'no' and she leaves them be.
—-
Hours later they're in the library, looking through the marriage book and trying to figure out what a possible solution is. Lunch comes and goes and Steve takes leave from her, disappearing outside. She catches herself watching him go through his exercise routine again and feels curiosity grow. When he comes in the back door, flushed and smiling, he pauses, noticing her there.
"What are you doing?" She asks, curiosity clear in her tone.
Steve sets his shoes neatly by the door, "just trying to keep up my strength." He says easily, "someone recommended it."
She can sense the evasiveness in his answer, but it doesn't seem malicious, just cautious.
"Steve?" He looks at her, and she plucks at the lace on her blouse, "I was wondering… What are those scars from?"
He stiffens and looks away, "it's a long story. Just… something that happened."
Again, the cautious evasive instead of an answer, but she doesn't press. It's none of her business. She's not actually his wife…
"What do you think about going to town tomorrow?" He asks, changing the subject, "we could go to the village library and check out some more books to research through?"
Peggy pauses, she hasn't been to the village in a long time. They're not exactly her biggest fans. "I don't know, Steve…" she starts, "I don't think—"
"You can't hide here forever. And…" he scrubs at the back of his neck. "I think it would be good for them to see you in a new perspective."
"You mean when I'm not spewing wretched remarks about you?"
He laughs, a gentle chuckle, "no, I don't matter. But I do want them to know the real you. So you have to give them a chance."
"I will." She responds firmly, "tomorrow, after breakfast?"
He nods and they part ways, preparing for dinner.
—
The carriage ride is quiet and Steve can feel nerves radiating off of Peggy.
He reaches out and gently rests a hand on hers, "it's going to be fine, I promise. They're kind people." Then he draws his hand back before she can become uncomfortable by his touch.
—-
The warmth that disappears when he removes his hand makes Peggy's chest ache. But she does not reach back for it. She lets him remove it because she knows it is not acceptable for her to want comfort from someone who is not hers.
—-
She notices that he never leaves her side. And if any other man had stood by her side as staunchly and protectively as he did, she would have stomped on his foot and told him to go stuff his head in the hay. She needed no protection that she herself could not provide.
But she couldn't help but feel grateful to Steve. She could tell the villagers were wavering, unsure about her. Only having known the harsh and bitter Margaret Carter, not the open and willing to try, Peggy.
Her own fault of course. But Steve never wavered, walking with her through several shops and purposefully engaging her in conversation with the shop owners. He doesn't let her shy away from their wary glares and raised eyebrows.
Warring instincts rear inside her. She's not a coward who wants to bow to the villagers' opinion and fret apologetically at their feet. Her pride rankles at the thought.
But… she also had been horrid to Steve, which isn't her usual behavior either. So she must make due for her actions in some way. And making pleasant talk for a man who shouldn't even want to look or speak to her after the things she said about him, seems like a frightfully easy way to make amends.
The word of her presence, and Steve's constant presence beside her, must spread because she sees window curtains shift, and plenty of shopkeepers peeking out their windows, or adjusting their wares outside.
She doesn't shy away from their looks. She lets Steve guide her, trusting him, and his ability to smooth feathers.
Which, by the time they make it to the library, they seem to have made significant progress.
The kind man at the receptionist's desk does not question why they want to look at the volumes about the village's history. Just leads them with a small smile and listens as they speak back and forth about their own knowledge of their villages.
They sit at a wooden table with many books open, studying their respective villages and traditions. She yawns a few hours later and he chuckles softly. "Let's check a few of these out, and head home, what do you say?"
She nods and they pick out the few they think will be most helpful.
They exit and come face to face with Natasha Romanoff, who looks unamused.
"Hello Steve." She says cheerily, her threatening deep green eyes not leaving Peggy's face. "Glad to see you out and about."
"Natasha." Steve says gently but with just a hint of warning in his tone. Peggy can't believe he's here defending her, but somehow he is. She feels warmth at him.
"Hello, Ms. Romanoff." Peggy says kindly, "I hope you'll be willing to hear an apology for the rude behavior and comments I exchanged with you on that festival day. I…" she sighs, her pride fighting her next words, "I wasn't myself."
Steve gives a confused look at both of them, not knowing the context. But Peggy keeps her eyes on Natasha, knowing that to really earn the town's trust, she probably must earn the trust of the woman in front of her.
The inspection is lengthy. Natasha glares at her, staring her down and waiting for Peggy to crack under the pressure of her judgement.
But Peggy stands firm. She does not waver in her eye contact or her open expression on her face.
"Natasha—" Steve starts, "don't—"
"Okay." Natasha says finally, cutting him off. "I forgive you. But act like that again and you won't be able to speak any apologies ever again."
"Natasha!" Steve admonishes.
"I'm not afraid of you." Peggy says sharply, "but I know when I'm in the wrong. The way I handled the situation was not correct."
"Peggy—" Steve says too gently, "It's okay."
"No." Peggy says firmly, now brutally aware of how harmful her behavior was to him, "It wasn't, but I'm thankful you gave me a chance to explain." She turns back to Natasha, "I won't take threats from you. But I will prove to you from here on out that the woman you've known is not actually who I am."
Natasha seems to accept this. "Alright." She says finally. "But good luck convincing James." Steve groans and Natasha grins. "See you at the Winter Festival." And she's gone before they can blink.
"Should we go speak to him now?" Peggy asks, feeling emboldened to fix everything at once.
"He's working now, maybe next time." Steve responds, guiding them towards Mr. Coulson who stands by with the carriage. "Let's go home." He says easily as he helps her into the carriage. Then his breath catches and she looks at him quizzically, "I-I mean—" he stumbles, "Let's go to the house. Sorry."
It's as they drive away that she understands his correction.
Not home.
Not their home.
Just a house.
He's ensuring she doesn't feel trapped. That he doesn't expect her to see it as her home.
Because it's not.
So why does it hurt to hear him say it?
—
The next few weeks pass by in a flurry of snow and activity. The winter festival approaches and they prepare for their part of the ceremony. A speech before the lighting of the winter pine and the candlelight procession through the town square. Peggy's struck by how similar their traditions are.
"Why did our villages fight in the first place?" She asks in a huff one day. "We're basically the bloody same."
Steve laughs as he carefully paints a blown glass ornament.
She's taken to walking into his studio and watching him as he works. It's mesmerizing. His hands creating the most delicate details and beautiful works.
He hangs the ornament to dry and she watches the dying sun catch the gold paint and flicker. "It's beautiful." She says, dropping the book she'd been studying, walking over to the row of neatly and uniquely painted ornaments hanging around the room to dry. "Your family will be so excited to receive these gifts."
His ears go pink at the tips and she wants to run her finger over them. She knows they'll be warm and soft to her touch. But she doesn't. She mustn't.
The last few weeks of them studying, eating together, and becoming quick friends has been a whirlwind for her. She finds his quick wit and even quicker kindness to be dreadfully endearing. She watches each morning as he exercises out amongst the snow and flora. And she smiles when his hair drips with a mix of snow and sweat.
It's become almost humorous how much food he eats these days. Ms. Nancy has taken to ensuring there's always some sort of bread or pastry or muffin in the kitchens for him, as he'll get frightfully hungry at all hours of the day and night.
She'd watched carefully that first week, after the bathtub incident, for signs that he might fall ill again. But truthfully, he looks healthier than ever.
He's definitely growing. It's no longer just a suspicion.
He'd come to breakfast one morning and she'd gaped at the height difference. He'd seemed just as surprised and didn't want to talk about it even as she pestered him.
Now each day she notices the growing gap. Her head barely touches his shoulder anymore.
Not to mention the rest of him.
She's noticed that their house staff's attitudes have shifted. Thompson, usually an obnoxious but cheerily self-centered man, has taken to quietly grumbling and eyeing Steve with distaste. Peggy assumes his own vanity is at stake with the drastic and incredible transformation of the man he serves.
While she's noticed Lorraine's lingering and increasing gazes at Steve. She tries not to let it bother her. One day Steve will be allowed to marry whom he chooses (if they succeed) and maybe he'll choose Lorraine. It's not her place to come between them. The virulent instinct to bristle and snap at the woman when she catches her staring at Steve is unanticipated. So she ignores it as much as possible. Only gritting her teeth occasionally when she notices Lorraine going out of her way to end up in Steve's path.
At night Peggy let's her mind wander over the image of his face, still as handsome as it has always been, but the height and she'll vainly admit, the rest of his growth spurt, creating a startling new image of the man she'd unwillingly married.
He's always been handsome in his own delicate and sharp featured way. But she'll only admit to herself that his now impressive height and expansive muscles create a whole other level of physical attraction. She tries to tamp down the blasted feminine curse of being attracted to a strong, fit, male. Knowing it was bloody Mother Nature's way of trying to inform her of who was a 'good' genetic breeding partn—
She openly gasps at her own thought.
Hell, she'd just thought about breeding.
She definitely needs sleep.
She snuffs out her candle and slams her own pillow over her head, trying to block out any thought of the man just a few doors away.
—-
Somehow he seems even larger the next day and Peggy has to physically keep her eyes on her plate of eggs and potatoes to keep from staring at the way his jaw cuts such a sharp line.
Her fingers stay clenched either in her lap or holding her utensils.
"Peggy?" She glances up to find concerned blue eyes and a worried face, "are you okay?"
"Fine." She says quietly. "I'm fine."
"Are you sure?" He leans closer, the light from the window shining through his golden hair that looks so soft to the touch— no. Stop. She hisses internally. She mustn't get distracted from her goal. Even if the kindest and most attractive man sits before her. "Are you feeling well?"
"I'm okay." She says softly, relaxing her hands and taking a deep breath, "just a lot on my mind for the Christmas festival."
He seems to accept this, although she pretends not to notice his lingering concerned gazes.
—
Three nights before the Christmas festival, Peggy is wrapping her family's gifts and packaging them carefully. She'd intended to ship them days ago, but the terrible winter storm had kept her from doing so.
Steve was out with Mr. Coulson, clearing felled trees that had crushed part of their fence along the back property line. Thompson and Lorraine had the day and night off since they would be required to help them during the Winter Festival and through the holiday. Steve had suggested giving them the time off, since they would require so much of it later. Peggy had eagerly agreed, happy to be rid of them, enjoying the peace of the house with just her and Steve and the quiet pair of Ms. Nancy and Mr. Coulson.
Now she regrets not having Thompson to run this errand for her.
She sighs and pulls on thick socks and her thickest wool skirt. It was late morning and if she hurried to town, she'd be able to make it back before dark… Hopefully.
Her thick coat and gloves go on next. And she pins up her hair to keep it out of her face. She grabs the packages, tying them together.
"Ms. Nancy?" She says, walking into the kitchen.
"Yes, dear?" The woman says with a smile that quickly fades at the sight of Peggy dressed for travel, "you're not going out into this weather are you?"
"I must." Peggy sighs, "the storm kept me from giving, and I won't have the ability to ship these till the week after the festival when the holiday ends. That's too late for them to arrive." The kind woman starts to protest but Peggy just smiles reassuringly, "I promise, I'll be back by dinner."
"Let me at least get Mr. Coulson to take you—"
"No." Peggy says firmly, "I'm just taking a horse, and I've ridden in the cold before." She tugs her coat tighter, "he and Mr. Rogers are working out back and I won't interrupt that. Will you tell Mr. Rogers that I've gone to town to send these packages and will be back before dinner?"
"I will." The woman says, "be careful, the ice on the roads is treacherous. And once it gets dark it's so difficult to see the roads, promise you'll be quite careful?"
Her genuine concern has Peggy feeling warmth inside. "Of course. I promise I will be safe and back before I'm even missed."
She takes her hat and walks out towards the barn, enjoying the crisp sun as it beams off the snow.
—-
Hours later, Steve and Mr. Coulson head indoors, shaking the snow from their hair and ice from their boots. They warm up their fingers by the fire and Steve insists that he go take a hot bath to keep off the chill as he accepts a hot cup of coffee from Ms. Nancy.
"Just so you know, sir." Ms. Nancy starts, "Ms. Carter told me to tell you that she was headed to town to send her family's packages."
He looks up, "what? When was this?"
"A few hours ago, sir. I tried to convince her otherwise, but she said it was now or too late for the gifts. She took a horse and said she'd be home by dinner."
Steve looks at the clock and then the window where the sun was starting to make its final descent towards the horizon.
He bites his cheeks, unsure whether to worry and go out after her and potentially invoke her exasperation at his disbelief of her word… or just stay and hope for the best. He tries to remind himself that she's a very capable rider, they've ridden together multiple times and she's well trained, better than he by far.
But she doesn't know the roads and the treacherous patches and how quickly the dark can muddle the direction you thought you were going. She doesn't know the village or their property like he does.
Tiny blue hands flash through his vision and he winces.
He forces himself to wait just a bit more.
But when the sun is flaring its last streaks of color across the bitter cold sky, he grabs his coat and gloves and rushes out the door, willing to risk her annoyance at his overprotectiveness to ensure that she is okay.
—