Steve runs faster than he knows should be humanly possible. He keeps his eyes on the road as he clutches her frigid body to his chest. She looks translucent and blue and barely breathing.
He spurs himself on faster, letting his body lead instinctively in a way he's never felt before.
—-
The door bursts open as he slams inside, shutting the door with his foot, "ma!" He shouts, crashing onto the rug in front of the small fireplace and holding her close, "Ma!"
His ma comes running from the bedroom, takes one look at him and flies to the kitchen.
"Take off her clothes!" His ma shouts.
He looks up in shock, "what!?"
"Steven, take off her clothes." She yells in exasperation.
"I can't do that!" He says, panicked.
"You're married!"
"We've never—" he chokes, "I've never—"
"At least take off the outer layers! We need her to get warm!" He can't seem to make his fingers move, "Steve, she'll die being frozen in those clothes." His mother snaps at him, "propriety can go to hell then, huh?"
He starts at her feet, unlacing the boots, ripping them when they don't budge and gently removing her feet from them. He has her stockings off and is full of relief that his mother is now beside him. Then the blossoming bruise catches his eye.
"Ma!" She hurries over at his panicked tone and examines the ankle. "Probably broken, but as long as it doesn't show compartment syndrome, it's the least of our worries. I'll check and wrap it when she's warmer. Go get some of my under things from my dresser." His mother orders. "She needs to be in dry clothes, but—" his mother looks at him and reaches out, laying a hand on his cheek, "you've got all these scratches on your face—"
"It was just the trees and brush, I'm fine—"
"Steve, you're blazing hot. You feel okay?"
"I feel fine."
His mother shakes her head in disbelief, "you're her best option then, body heat. Go get my things." He's not sure what she means, but he follows her instructions, grabbing a few options and bringing them out.
He turns his back as his mother undresses Peggy completely in front of the fire. "Steve?"
"Yes?"
"Come here."
"Ma—"
"Steven, she's going to die as a piece of ice, and you're worried about seeing her undressed?"
"I—"
"Fine!" His ma snaps, "close your eyes then and kneel beside me!"
He follows those instructions immediately, using his memory of the house to turn, avoid the small side table, and kneel beside his ma.
"Take off your shirt."
"Ma—"
"Steven, I swear on your dead father's grave that you're the most impossible boy on this earth. But I know you don't want her to die. So you will take off your shirt this instant."
He does.
Steve feels his ma's fingers run across the scar on his side and he frowns, "ma—"
"Sorry, I—"
"I know. They're not pretty to look at."
"They brought you back to me." She says firmly, "Now, hold out your arms."
He does so and practically yelps in shock as his ma maneuvers Peggy's frozen and undressed body into his arms. The cold burns against his skin, but he ignores it as he tries to hold her steady. Her head lolls against his chest, "Ma, what—"
"I'm going to set up a bed here in front of the fire, hold her close while I gather blankets."
He just nods, his eyes still closed. He'd probably be blushing fiercely if the iciness of her skin wasn't a constant reminder of how dire her situation was.
The rustling of blankets is heard and soon Peggy's being removed from his arms. He waits, eyes still closed until he feels a hand under his chin, "Steve, you can open your eyes." Blinking he looks to see his mother smiling at him in fond annoyance and then she shifts, "lie under these blankets with her. You're going to want as much skin to skin contact as possible, and ensure that her extremities are tucked in as much as possible." She points to the space behind Peggy who is lying there almost lifelessly. He looks up at her, eyes wide and she stomps her foot. "I don't have hot running water to heat for a bath, Steven! I can't do what Erskine did for Anthony. So, unless you want to take her back out into that storm, carry her another two and a half miles, only for Dr. Erskine to have to see her naked, you get your overheated giant of a body under these blankets!" He hesitates for a single second more and receives a smack to the back of his head, looking up in shock as his mother stabs a finger accusingly at him, "if you don't help heat her, she will die, and it will be because you were too embarrassed to lie besides her! Is that the type of man you are?" Steve looks at her somberly, shaking his head. "Good. Now take off your pants and get under these blankets." He looks back up in shock, but she's already facing the other way letting him get undressed without her eyes on him.
He wants to protest again, but he knows she's right. She's always right and she would never be forcing this if she didn't think it was necessary. He unbuckles his belt quickly, slides out of his pants and cold socks. He realizes his undershorts are cold and wet still. "Hold on." He says softly, "do you still have some of my old clothes in the room?"
"Yes," she says, "but they probably won't fit you," she pauses. "In my room, in the second drawer on the right are some of your father's old things. They might fit."
Steve blinks at her back and feels a rush of sadness at that. That after over 20 years she still has his belongings. He swallows and walks to her room, finding a few items that he's never seen before. He pulls out a pair of soft cotton undershorts and trades them for his. They're definitely snug on his much larger body but they do cover. He walks back out and reaches for the blanket. He slides under it, settling behind Peggy, and swallowing thickly. "Okay." He says hoarsely.
His ma turns around and rolls her eyes. "You're acting like I'm asking you to sleep on a bed of nails."
"No, I just—"
"I know." She says with a laugh, "you're just the dearest and most stubborn boy around."
He frowns at her and she laughs. Then she grows serious. "These first few hours are very important in ensuring that not only does she survive, but that she doesn't lose any fingers or toes." Steve nods and his ma kneels on the floor, adding more wood to the fire and then turning back to them. "Take her hands, and put them in between your arms and your torso." He does so, shivering at the initial contact, but then growing accustomed to it quickly. "Now, put her feet in between yours as best as you can manage." He does so, trying to ensure the warmth of his feet cover hers. "Now," his ma starts. "Pull her close. In about 30 minutes, I'm going to have you rotate her so each side is receiving warmth." He nods, and his ma looks at him, "I'm going to make some hot tea. When the storm is over, I'll send word to your house, okay?"
"Ma?" He whispers, "thanks."
She smiles at him, "you have a habit for this sort of thing."
"I don't mean to…"
"I know. I'm just glad this time is different."
Steve frowns, "me too."
"Hold her close." His ma instructs, "contact. Warm her core."
He nods and wraps his warm arms around her, trying to cover as much of her back with his forearms as possible. Her cold nose and face press against his chest and he rests his chin on the top of her head.
—
Like clockwork, his ma reminds him to rotate her every thirty minutes for almost 10 hours. They keep watch, feeling her pulse, checking her breathing and his ma rests an ear against her chest to listen to her lungs.
—
Steve uses the bathroom, putting water on his face to help wake him up. He's grabbing a biscuit his mother had made at some point in the last twelve hours, when he hears his ma make an unhappy sound in her throat. "Steve." His mother calls, "you need to come back." He walks over to see Peggy actively shivering. The first movement she's made on her own. Panic fills his chest and he slips back under the blanket, pulling her back up against him. A few minutes later, the shivering fades out and Peggy lets out a soft sigh of relief. Steve looks up at his ma in surprise, his chest constricting at the sound.
His ma smiles at him, "she's not out of the woods yet. You're keeping her warm, but her body is fighting too hard and can't provide heat on it's own. Are you okay staying like this?" Steve nods and she nods back,"okay, I'll get more firewood."
He gently rotates her so she's back to facing him, and he gently pulls her close, ensuring they're touching along the length of her body.
—-
Steve blinks awake, yawning and confused at the weight on him. He looks down to see that he's shifted onto his back while sleeping, hauling Peggy with him and now she's laying fully on his chest, her hair splayed and resting softly on his neck and shoulders.
He looks around to see his ma asleep on the small sofa, head tipped back.
His arms make their way around her back and sleepily he pulls her closer, enjoying the feel of her weight on him, relishing in the way their bodies seem to fit together. He sighs deeply, closing his eyes and running his fingers down the soft undershirt covering her back.
When she shivers under his touch he stiffens, reality finally breaking through the haze of sleep. He looks at the clock on the mantle and guesses that he's only been asleep for maybe 40 minutes. He shifts, sliding her off of him and turning so they are back to their original positions.
He sighs, still holding her close and gently pressing his lips against the top of her hair.
—-
27 hours in and there's only a little improvement. His ma is concerned and nudges them closer to the fire. "I think she'll be okay, as long as we can get her temperature up more and keep it that way. She's still too cold. Her body still isn't producing enough of it's own heat."
He nods and pulls her back into his arms. Everytime he has to get up, he comes back to her shivering. Her skin has more color, but not enough for his ma to feel that they're out of the woods. So he rotates her again and holds her close.
—-
It continues like this for the next 50 hours. He rotates her now every hour, and only gets up when he has to use the bathroom. Sneaking bites of food and water, and even letting his ma feed him small bits of things when she's shivering and he can't leave.
He dozes once or twice, but shakes himself awake and keeps watch on the fire and on Peggy.
She starts to move more on her own, fidgeting and pressing herself against him, sighing every time. It makes his heart ache with concern and with longing.
—-
He hears the front door open and his ma makes her way over to them. "I told them to postpone the ceremony," Steve nods, not caring at all about the Winter Ceremony that was supposed to happen that evening.
"You look tired." She says to him, her thumb ghosting under her eyes. "You need to sleep."
"I need to keep her warm." He says with a yawn.
"You're doing a wonderful job. I can't imagine how uncomfortable lying here for three days has been."
Steve looks down at the sleeping girl in his arms and feels a smile cross his face. "It's not so bad." He looks up to see his mother studying him and he frowns, "what?"
"I thought you two were working to figure out a way to dissolve the union?"
"We are."
She frowns at him, "at the risk of this being my own fault for ordering you to lie next to her for three days, I'm afraid that you're growing attached."
"I'm—" he wants to say, 'not'. But he knows he's not a good liar. "I care for her. I want her to be safe and happy. There's nothing wrong with that."
His ma just studies him and says nothing.
—-
Eventually he can't hold his eyes open anymore. He senses Peggy starting to warm on her own, relaxing in his arms and breathing more calmly. He tries to hold them open, wants to be there when she wakes, but one blink becomes two and soon his eyes flutter shut.
—
He dreams of gentle fingers touching his face, lips, and gently sliding down his chest and against his back. He can't place why, but he knows his heart rate elevates and his body reacts, grabbing and holding onto what he's wrapped around. He sighs and snuggles closer to the softness around him.
—-
He's had dreams like this before, but usually it's just a feeling, not an actual image. He dreams of his lips on hers and the way it would feel to run his fingers through her hair and the heat of his skin warming hers, never letting her be cold again. A pit of heat wells in his chest and stomach as he feels something grate against the sensitive skin of his stomach in his dream. The sensation of being explored by her hands makes his mind go fuzzy with desire and he grabs her in his dream, pulling her closer to him with a possessiveness he's never felt before.
—
She wakes to pain. She shudders, and gags, blood in her mouth. She coughs, muscles spasming and contracting as she shivers violently.
She's bitten her tongue from the shivering and she leans forward and holds a hand to her mouth, spitting out the blood into her palm.
Peggy makes a small gasp of pain as the nerves of her tongue fire and she hears footsteps and the swishing of skirts.
"Peggy?"
She pulls her eyelids open and finds Sarah kneeling beside her. "Oh—" her eyes land on Peggy's palm dripping blood, "oh, hold on." She's gone and back in a flash with a wet towel, a glass of water, and a small bowl full of water. She dips Peggy's hand in the cool water which makes her shiver and the woman frowns, "I'm sorry," she dries Peggy's hand and then wipes at Peggy's face, clearing off the blood. "Rinse your mouth." She helps her take a drink and spit it back into the bowl. "He's coming back," Sarah says softly, "he should be back soon."
She manages to make it to the bathroom and back, with Sarah's help. She winces at the ache in her ankle.
She can only stand to be away from the fire for a minute or two before she's shivering uncontrollably. She lays closer to the fireplace but the heat it puts out only barely touches the bone rattling cold she's feeling. She can't even speak over the chatter of her teeth.
—-
The exhaustion of the shivering of her muscles must have caused her to pass out, because she doesn't remember Steve's return, only aware that her body relaxes at some point and she's able to fall into a deep sleep.
—-
He wakes, still feeling exhausted from being awake for so long and running to town to send a message with someone to their house staff, letting them know they were okay and would probably be home in a day or few.
Steve's brow furrows at not being able to see. He leans back and finds himself looking at the back of Peggy's head. She's lying on her stomach, and he's half on top of her, while she's tucked under his body. He shifts, rolling back and dragging her with him, arranging her so she's on his chest, not caring in his exhaustion filled haze. He pulls the blankets around them and wraps his arms across her back. He should feel surprised at the way his hands find the skin of her back instead of the nightshirt. But he's so tired he can't seem to care.
—
The constant rise and fall of his chest is comforting. She'd woken a bit ago, finding herself wrapped in his arms and lying completely on top of him. She could have moved.
She should move.
But after the story Mrs. Rogers had told her, she stays. Laying her head against the thick scar on his chest and listening to his strong heartbeat. She lets her hands trace the scars on each side of his torso, gently running her fingers lightly back and forth against the raised skin while she listens to his heart.
She falls back asleep to the sound.
—-
The next time she wakes, she can tell that he's close to being awake too, shifting and breathing differently than the times before. They haven't spoken in almost 5 days. The last words they said to each other were "goodnight" the night before she left for the village. Anticipation fills her and she shifts, snuggling close. Maybe it's silly of her, but she wants him to think she's asleep when he wakes. She wants to know what he'll do.
She knows it's childish.
She knows.
But she doesn't care.
So she snuggles up close to him, pressing her face against his chest and relaxing completely.
It takes a while, maybe 10 minutes before his breathing fully changes and she knows he's awake.
She keeps her eyes closed as she feels him shift her a bit. Then she has to use every bit of her willpower to stay relaxed as his fingers trail softly against the skin on her back. She memorizes each sensation as he pulls her closer and his arms wrap tighter around her. But what causes her heart to falter is when she feels his lips press against the top of her head, and he snuggles his face against her hair.
She shifts softly, angling her face and peeking up at him, only to find that his eyes are closed and he looks incredibly sleepy. She smiles, so maybe he's not all the way awake.
—-
It thrills her to find out that a sleepy Steve is an uninhibited Steve. She keeps her eyes closed but tests the boundaries.
Peggy rotates slowly, maneuvering until Steve's hand onto her waist, under the shirt. She then waits to see if he'll pull back, but he doesn't, she feels a heat rise along her chest as his index and middle fingers trace lazy circles along her hip bone, she feels him bring his face down, resting his nose and lips against her bare shoulder.
The barest of pressure from his lips makes her shiver, which causes him to freeze. He must assume her shiver is from the cold because he tugs her closer, bringing his knees up so they press against her legs, warming them. She can feel the heat of his back against hers.
"Steve?" Peggy hears Mrs. Roger say softly, "are you hungry?"
"'M sleepy." He mumbles against the top of her head.
"You should eat. It's been too long."
"Too tired." He replies softly. "Later."
"How does she seem?" Peggy can hear her kneel beside them.
"Still shiverin'" he replies, and she hears him yawn, "thatta bad sign?"
"Probably just residual." Sarah says, "her temperature is definitely close to normal, and I think she'll be okay by tomorrow. I'm sure you'll be glad to be off the floor."
She feels Steve's fingers grip her tighter, pulling her possessively towards him. "Yeah he whispers, "sure."
"Steven."
And it's the first time Peggy's heard a chastising tone from the mother to the son.
"Hmm?"
"I'm worried about—" she pauses and Peggy can imagine the sight she's seeing before her. "this…"
"'M fine." Steve says sleepily, "just tired."
"I'm not talking about you being tired.."
"Hmm?"
"You've only got a few more hours to be lying besides your not-wife. You're going to get hurt if you're not careful."
There's a weighted pause, and his voice is still slow as sleepy, "Ma—"
"Don't 'ma' me." Sarah whispers, "Don't think I haven't seen the way you've gone from practically holding her at arm's length to—." She must point, "whatever this is."
"Ma!" Steve groans, and Peggy wants to laugh at the way she can feel Steve blush by the wave of heat that rolls off him. He's waking up more now, the sleepiness wearing off. "I haven't been inappropriate," then he pauses, "have I?" Sarah laughs softly and he groans again. Peggy almost whimpers as he scoots a bit further away, putting space between them. "You could have stopped me." He whispers.
She laughs softly, "First, the closer she is to you, the better. Second, I haven't seen tired Steve in years. I remember when you were a kid and you'd say the most ridiculous things when you were sleepy. Miss seeing you so relaxed."
"I'm relaxed." Steve says stubbornly.
"Sure Steve." She hears his ma say in an amused tone. "Sure."
He huffs but falls silent. "Ma?"
"Hmm?"
"What am I going to do if… If she doesn't want to stay… with me?" Peggy tries not to crack under the pressure of that question. "What if she still wants to be free?"
"Free?" She asks in a huff, "you aren't her prison warden." She hears his ma sigh. "Steven, your entire life you have always done, or tried to do the right thing. I have no doubt that will continue. Tell her what you want and then she gets to make her choice, and you'll deal with whatever that is, like you have with every bad hand you've been dealt."
Peggy doesn't miss her choice of words, and neither does Steve.
"So… you think she'll leave?"
"I think she's too proud to admit she wants to stay." Peggy takes those words like a knife to the chest.
They fall silent and Peggy is left to her own turmoil of thoughts.
—
She waits until she hears Sarah leave to 'wake up'. She blinks her eyes open and shifts, turning until she's facing him. His eyes are closed, but when she wriggles, straightening the undershirt she has on, his eyes pop open.
"Peggy?" He asks, his voice low and gravelly.
"Yeah." She responds, instantly aware of their proximity. She hears his breathing increase and she feels the stiffness in his body as he shifts further away from her unconsciously.
"How do you feel?"
"I'm not sure…" she admits, "definitely warmer than a few days ago."
"Can I get you anything? Food?"
"Don't leave." She blurts out, surprising him, "I mean— It's cold when you leave."
He huffs out a laugh, "you need to eat though."
"Later." She says quickly, "I'll eat later." They fall silent and she can't help but just look at him, his eyes, blue and deep and concerned on hers. "Thank you." She says softly, keeping her eyes on his, "thank you for sticking by me all this time."
His brow furrows, "of course." He says as if there wasn't any other choice. "I'm glad I could be of some help."
She peers at him and tilts her head, "are you taller? Or…" she blinks, "wider?"
He laughs then, a clear hearty sound that sends heat from her stomach to her toes, "I don't know, haven't had the chance to look in a mirror."
"You haven't told me about these." She asks, glancing down under the blankets and lightly tracing the scar that runs down his chest.
He looks at her and she sees his eyes get earnest, his throat bobs and his hand finds hers, grasping it. "Peggy, I—" Her eyes widen, and she suddenly know what he's about to say, "I want—"
"Steve." She cuts him off, her voice tight and heart pounding. "I'm thirsty."
His face falls, and he takes a second before he nods, clearing his throat, "oh, of course, I'll be right back."
When he comes back with a glass of water, she scoots a bit away, sitting up against the small couch, wrapped in a blanket. He hands her the glass and she ignores the fact that he's sitting there with just shorts on, scars and muscles and sad eyes all on display.
"Thank you." She whispers, sipping the water. He nods, and then they're quiet.
And it sinks in that Sarah might be right. No matter what she wants, she might not be able to admit that she wants to stay.
Because she does.
But if she does, she'll have to accept that it was never her choice. Just an accident the Marriage Counsels made. A coincidence of fate and not something of her own volition. And that thought is the one that makes her back away. To have the strength to push Steve away because she can't let anyone, especially not the Marriage Counsels, be in control of her whole life.
If she stays in this marriage she'll be denying everything she grew up believing and speaking out against. Every comment about believing the marriages to be a sham and the whole Unity Ceremony to be a joke will taunt her. Her pride burns at the thought.
She looks at Steve, who is studying the fire, face somber and deep in thought.
He'll be okay. She convinces herself. He'll find someone else.
But she'll hate whoever it is.
—-
Steve's not sure what he did wrong, but it must have been something big because Peggy practically avoids looking at him.
She'd started shivering again soon after drinking the glass of water he'd brought her. But instead of asking him to stay, like she'd done minutes before, she stays sitting wrapped in her blanket, scooting closer to the fire instead of him.
He thinks over the conversation they'd had before she'd asked for water and the only thought he can come up with is that she got uncomfortable when he grabbed her hand. He chastises himself for getting too intimate. For confusing the strange forced proximity of the last few days with actual closeness.
So he respects the distance she puts in between them, even though his arms already miss holding her.
—-
A day later, Sarah helps Peggy get dressed for the first time in almost a week. Then Peggy takes her makeshift crutch in one hand, and hobbles to the carriage. Steve had offered to help of course, but she'd smiled at him and told him that she could manage.
She already knew this wasn't going to be like when they first got married. She had no intention of going back to her horrific behavior of those days. But she does intend to put space between them. They've grown too close, too familiar for a pair who are intending to separate ways and go back to their previous lives.
She hates how easily Steve accepts her 'cold' shoulder. How much he backs away and doesn't press. As if he doesn't know how thankful she is to him for everything. As if he's unaware how much she cares for him. How much he means to her.
Not that she's told him.
The carriage ride is quiet and when they pull up to the house, it feels like there's miles between them.
Which is what she wants.
And hates.
—
Ms. Nancy does exactly what Peggy expects, fusses and points a wagging finger at her, "you scared us to death by going missing like that!" She accuses, huffing around the kitchen.
Peggy smiles, "I'm so sorry, Ms. Nancy, I promise it won't happen again."
"It better not!" She frowns at her, "or you'll have me to deal with!"
Peggy laughs and nods, "I wouldn't think of it."
Mr. Coulson had been much more demure, but still the relief was palpable when he'd picked them up from Steve's house and drove them home.
Peggy watches as Lorraine and Thompson have two very different reactions to Steve arriving back home. She grits her teeth as Lorraine eyes Steve like a piece of meat, ready to be devoured. While Thompson looks at him in shock and subtle annoyance.
Peggy knows why. Steve is practically a giant now. A commanding presence in any room that can't be ignored. She has to admit it is as difficult for her to ignore him as it seems to be for Thompson.
—-
The ceremony is rescheduled for the next night and they do their duty as stated. Although she does not miss the investigative eye that Mrs. Rogers gives her at the clear foot of space between the two at all times.
Even though she shivers horribly the whole night, still not fully recovered, Peggy can't be too close to him. If she feels the heat radiating off him, she's drawn like a moth to the flame, which is not fair to either of them. So she keeps her distance.
And hates that too.
—-
Two nights later, she wakes gasping, clutching at her chest for air and shivering so hard her bed shakes.
She's cold and miserable and she looks at her fire, which is just glowing, but banked for the morning. She stumbles over to it, crouching in front, trying to steal any of it's measly warmth. But it only barely touches the cold from the nightmare.
—
For the next three days, she wakes each night, shivering and miserable. She tells herself it will go away. That it's her body's way of coping with what it went through.
But on the fourth night she breaks down, crying and aching for warmth.
She wraps herself in a robe, puts on extra stockings, sits by the fire, but nothing helps. She sits there miserably, staring at the glowing embers.
—
Instead of the days she usually spends with Steve, watching him draw, or exercise, or them chatting in the library, she throws herself into the research they were doing, looking into any possibility of how they can change the way their villages unite.
Steve joins her each day, working silently while he reads and takes notes. He shares his thoughts occasionally and they talk amicably about things that need to be done around the house.
Lorraine must notice the difference between them, because the next week, when she's dropping off tea and coffee for each of them respectively, Peggy's eyes widen at the way Lorraine's hand rests on Steve's forearm.
"Can I get you anything else, sir?" She asks in practically a pur.
He looks at her, a bit confused, "no, I'm okay. But thank you.'
She nods and smiles at him, letting her fingers graze his skin as she removes her hand.
Peggy grips the armrest so hard she thinks she could rip it off if she wanted to.
—
She lasts a month. A month of miserable nights half sleeping and half shivering in front of the fire, that even when roaring doesn't keep her all the way warm. She curses herself for being selfish that first day and choosing the larger bedroom. The air refuses to retain heat as it fights against the cold battering the large windows.
So now she is pacing like a ghost on the landing outside Steve's door.
Her footsteps are muted, her ankle protests, and she bites at her thumbnail. Something she hasn't done since her maid had slapped her hand often enough to slap the habit out of her.
But the hallway isn't any warmer than her room and she finds herself pushing his door open gently.
She walks softly, the dark room illuminated only by the moonlight outside. She approaches the bed, stopping at the sight of his broad back exposed to the open air, the sheets and thick comforter pushed down around his hips.
His face is turned away from her, but she can hear his steady breathing.
"Steve?" She whispers, hoping to wake him. But he doesn't stir. She climbs delicately onto the bed, touching his shoulder and wanting to cry in relief at the burning heat just the touch sends through her. "Steve?"
He stirs, shifting and head raising. "Hmm?"
"Steve, it's me, Peggy?"
His face turns towards her and he gives her a sleepy, "yeah?"
"I'm uh…" she pauses, knowing how horribly selfish she's about to be, "I was wondering if…"
He rubs at his eyes, turning over onto his back and sitting up, "are you alright?"
She shakes her head 'no'.
"What is it?" He asks with a yawn.
"I'm… I'm quite cold."
He blinks at her, confused, "you need help with your fire?"
She shakes her head 'no' again. And his brow furrows, his sleep-addled brain not understanding. So she works up the courage. "I haven't really been warm since we left your mother's house." His mouth parts in surprise and she winces, "would you mind?"
"Oh." He responds, "oh."
"If not, that is completely understandable, I shouldn't hav—"
"Of course." He says, his voice hoarse, "if you need warmth, then of course I can help."
She nods, and he shifts, making space for her. She takes off her robe, shivering in just her winter nightgown. She slides under the covers and immediately feels the way his heat has warmed the bed. He pulls the blanket up and over her shoulders. "Is that better?" He asks softly.
She nods, almost in tears at how relieved she feels. Her muscles finally relaxing after a month of misery. "Thank you." She whispers, her voice tight.
She feels his eyes on her. "Peggy? Are… are you alright?" She turns to him, and she must actually have tears in her eyes because his eyes widen in alarm, "Peggy, what's the matter?"
She shudders, her body trying to absorb as much of the heat as she can, "I'm sorry." She chokes out, "I shouldn't be here. It's not—" she wants to say it's not fair to him, but she's not supposed to know what he feels, "I've just been—" she tries again, "I've been so cold and this is the first moment I've started to feel warm."
She watches as emotions flit over his face, surprise and concern and then she pretends to have not seen the flash of longing before it settles on determination.
"I'm sorry," he apologizes, though she can't fathom why.
"For what?"
"For not asking, for not checking to see if you were warm enough. It took An—" his voice dies off and he stares at her, then clears his throat, "I'm sure it's not a linear healing process. Your body went through quite a bit, it may take a while to regulate."
Anthony. He was about to tell her something about Anthony's recovery. But he just shifts and stretches. "Is there anything else you need?" She shakes her head 'no' and he nods. "Alright, let me know."
It doesn't take him long to fall back asleep which surprises her a little, but she doesn't mind. The peacefulness of lying beside him, while he breathes steadily and she absorbs his heat, is calming.
The moonlight shines through the branches outside and she falls asleep to the snow drifting down outside the window.
—-
Steve gains consciousness when something cool presses against him. He turns to find Peggy's forehead resting against his side. He stills, watching her sleep in the dark, the moonlight now past and the sun not yet rising. He knows he'd fallen asleep with distance between them, and he's still on the side of the bed he started on. She's managed to close the gap, now tucked up against him.
He wants to brush the hair gently off her forehead. He wants to wrap his arms around her and keep her warm. He wants to ensure she never shivers again.
But she doesn't want that.
She doesn't want him.
His heart aches, but he stays beside her anyways, keeping watch. Keeping her warm.
—-
The sound of a throat clearing wakes her. She blinks, looking over to see Thompson standing in Steve's room, staring at them with an annoyed expression.
She's not sure what to say, so she says nothing. He narrows his gaze, eyeing Steve (who is laying quite possessively curled around her) "I'll be in his dressing room, when he's ready."
She nods and he's gone.
"Steve!" She whispers, "Steve, wake up!"
She thinks he mumbles the word 'comfortable', which is very much not endearing. She wriggles out of his grasp, hearing him make an unhappy sound at her absence. "I'm going back to my room." She pauses and looks at him, "thank you, for last night." He picks his head off the pillow and she has to fight the urge to run her fingers through his mused hair, "Thompson is waiting for you in your dressing room."
That wakes him up. He bolts upright, "what time is it?"
"Must be past 7:30." She whispers, grabbing her robe. "Lorraine!" She squeaks out, slapping a hand to her forehead. "Bye!" She calls, dashing out of his room and over to her own. She thinks she may have avoided being missed since Lorraine isn't in the room, but when she walks in with her morning tea, and there's an unusually icy tone, Peggy knows she's been made.
"Have a nice night?" Lorraine asks, with a pinched expression.
And no one has ever called Peggy subtle.
"It was wonderful, actually." She says with a bit too much enjoyment at the jab. "And you?"
"Just fine, ma'am."
"Excellent."
—-