Steve swears he's never looked at a clock so many times in a row during an art class. Usually he's hyper focused on whatever project he has in front of him. But he finds himself half dreading and half dying with anticipation for the clock to strike 7p.m.
"Yo, what's on your mind?" Hope asks, whispering quietly as Professor Sif talks about one of the artists they've been studying.
He just shrugs, his eyes going back to the clock before looking down at the lips he's been absently doodling.
Hope eyes his drawing and smiles, "you got a hot date later?" She teases. Which is when he looks at her, shoulders sagging.
"Actually…" he says quietly, "I think I do."
She gapes at him before her mouth turns into a wide grin, "What? Steve what the hell! You weren't going to tell me?"
"I can't believe it myself." He whispers back a bit helplessly, "I've never—" he pauses, swallowing thickly, "never hung out with a girl before who I didn't know."
"You asked out a stranger?" She says, her voice getting louder and Professor Sif eyeing them making them duck down.
Steve looks at hope and holds his hands palm up as if he can't believe what he's about to say, "actually… she asked me…"
She looks at him, eyes bright with mirth and a huge grin, "dang, Steve. Get it."
He flushes and waves her off, turning back to the professor. His eyes trail to the clock. 6:56p.m. He feels a thrill of anticipation and tries to take calm deep breaths.
—-
At 7:03, he packs up his things and notices Hope waiting eagerly for him.
"You can leave now." He says with a frown.
"Oh no, I gotta see what hottie picked you up!"
Steve groans and zips up his folio, carrying it towards the door. "Maybe she won't show." He says, stopping before the door, "maybe she'll change her mind."
"If she does I'll track her down." Hope says with her eyebrows furrowed.
"You won't." Steve rolls his eyes. He reaches for the handle and pulls it open, not sure what to expect.
He stands in the doorway, staring at the bench that's directly across from the door. She's there.
Actually there.
She's sitting with one leg tucked under the other, a laptop perched on her leg and a pen tucked behind her ear. Her hair is falling in waves off her shoulders and her red lips are pursed in thought.
And he wants to draw her immediately.
"Holy shit." He looks behind him to see Hope staring at her with wide eyes. Peggy looks up at the comment and notices him there, smiling.
"There you are." She says, closing her laptop and leaning an elbow on it, "you ready to go?"
Steve turns to Hope, almost unsure if she's talking to him.
Hope laughs, "she ain't talking to me, Steve." Hope steps forward, "hey, I'm Hope. You're gorgeous by the way."
Peggy smiles and shakes Hope's hand. "I'm Peggy, and thank you. I love your hair."
Hope nods, "just cut it. Anyways, have fun you two!" Hope walks around the corner and Steve stands there still feeling like the hallway is tilted at an angle.
She gathers her things and turns to face him. "You ready?"
He nods, unable to get his throat working.
"Are you hungry?"
Not really, but he's not going to say that, so he nods again.
"I know this great little cafe that's open late, what do you say?"
He nods again and she laughs, "have you lost your voice in the last two hours?"
He shakes his head 'no'. Then winces, "no." He says softly.
"Good." She says firmly, "because I'm hoping to learn about you tonight from something other than nods."
He ducks his head and feels his cheeks heat, "why?" He asks before he can stop himself.
She looks at him and once again raises one eyebrow, as if she knows exactly what he's thinking and finds it mildly amusing and dead wrong.
"Well," she says with a crisp voice and a smile, "I suppose I shouldn't lie on our first date—" he practically stumbles at her use of the word, but manages to stay steady, "I'll not shy about the topic. I saw you that day in Erskine's office and thought you quite handsome. I'll not admit to being vain, but I will admit that your looks are what initially attracted me to you. So now I hope that the personality is as dashing as the outside."
Her words are reverberating against his skull and it takes everything in him to not melt into a puddle of confusion on the floor.
Somehow he hears himself choking out the question, "you think I'm attractive?"
She turns, grabbing his arm gently and pulling him to a stop. Her eyebrow raises and he knows now it will forever be the signature look he associates with her. "Steve. Humility I think is a noble trait. Ignorance is not."
He just stares at her, unable to understand how he's gotten to this moment. He watches in what seems like slow motion as she reaches out and gently brushes the backs of her fingers against his cheek, making his heart stutter, and flesh ignites in heat beneath it. She then leans closer, studying his eyes and smiling at him before leaning back, allowing him to start breathing again, "you're an artist. You see beauty in so many things. Why can't you see it in yourself?"
"I've never looked." He rasps out.
She frowns at him but with a soft amusement, "well start. You're dashing in a way that I usually only see in old 40's romance movies. I'll not have you misunderstanding my intentions simply because we don't agree eye-to-eye on your appearance."
"Intentions?" He asks cluelessly.
She laughs, a soft sound that fills the long hallway, "you're impossible." She says, nudging his shoulder, "come on." She leads him down a set of stairs and he willingly follows.
—-
He holds a glass of iced tea in his hands as she sips from a mug of hot tea. A plate of fries sits between them.
So far he's asked her about her life. The courage to ask her questions came from the dread of her having to ask about his home life, or previous home life, so he finds the words to ask about her home and her family and why they moved to the US.
"Work." She says simply, "I've only lived here for three years, but I've grown accustomed to the way of America. I do miss home sometimes, but I'm happy here. And my father seems happy in his new job. Something that was rare before."
She has a brother who is in college and that Steve can tell she adores just by how she talks about him. A cat that she also loves, and a mother with whom she rarely agrees.
She hopes to be a forensic detective one day and Steve has the impression that she's very good at puzzling things out.
"So—" She says, setting her tea down, "now that you've learned about me, while trying to avoid talking about yourself—" there's that eyebrow raise again, "anything else you want to know before I get to ask you questions?"
He swallows nervously and ducks into his shoulders at having been caught, "what do you want to know?"
She leans forward, "tell me about you? What are things you like or dislike?"
"I love art." He says easily, "and English and History. I don't like math except geometry… and science has always been a bit above my head kinda."
"A humanities man, I like that." She says cheekily, and he feels his collar flush, making her smile. "What about your family?"
He glances down, tracing a finger over the rim of his glass, might as well be honest. "My dad died when I was little, don't remember him much—" Peggy's face gets solemn, and she leans in, as if she truly cares what he's about to say. "Then it was just me and my ma until I was 9."
"She remarried?" Peggy asks, and he can sense the tiniest bit of hope in her voice that that's what happened.
He shakes his head, "no, uh— no, she died when I was 9."
He watches as her hand reaches out, and he thinks she's going to set it on top of his, but she surprises him by gently placing it along his cheek and lifting his face so their eyes meet.
"I'm so sorry, Steve. That's terrible. I can't imagine."
"It's okay," he says softly, almost mesmerized by her gentle touch, "it's been over 8 years now."
"Maybe," she says, pulling her hand away and resting it near his, "but that's a lot of grief for a young boy to go through and I'm sorry." He keeps his face impassive. The grief had really just started at that point. "What did you do then?" She asks, "did you live with a relative?"
He takes a sip of the cold sweetened tea and shakes his head, "no, I—" he looks up at her, noting the earnest curiosity on her face, "no, I don't have any relatives, so I was placed in a kid's home. I live there now."
Her mouth makes a delicate 'o' shape and she tilts her head. "Are you happy there?"
His chest relaxes, "yeah," he says, glad it can be an honest answer, "I am."
She seems to sigh in relief at that and smiles, "so there are other kids there?"
He nods, "yep, I've got a lot of siblings. They're a great bunch—" he's about to start talking about Peter when he feels his phone vibrate. "One second." He says, pulling it out and seeing Sam's name, "it's my—" he pauses, then he laughs, "I guess you could say it's my dad." Peggy smiles and gestures for him to answer and he slides his thumb across the bottom. "Hey Sam."
"Steve?"
He sounds worried, and that makes Steve worry, "yeah? Everything okay?"
"Where are you?"
"I'm—" he looks over at the clock to see it read 9:33p.m." His eyes widen, "Oh, crap, I"m sorry Sam! I should have called."
"Steve, I'm trying here man, but you can't just not let me know if you're gonna be late!"
Steve winces, "I'm really sorry," he can feel Peggy watching him, "I'm fine though, I promise."
"You still at the school?"
Steve scrunches his nose, unsure how to answer, "uh—"
Sam's tone gets worried again, "Steve, are you at the school?"
"No."
A pause and Sam's voice gets tight. "Where are you and do I need to come pick you up?"
Steve's shaking his head, still avoiding Peggy's eyes, "no, I'm at a cafe. It's close to the school. I'm fine."
"You're at a cafe…" Sam says slowly, "alone?"
"No…" Steve says weakly.
"Steve. You're 17, and I know that, but with everything we've been through man, I've gotta have more details here."
"I'm with a friend from school."
Sam goes quiet and he finally works up the courage to look at Peggy who had the raised eyebrow.
"Oh shoot, it's a girl." Sam breathes out, "you're with a girl?"
Steve prays that Peggy can't hear Sam speaking, "yes." He practically whispers.
Sam laughs, "oh you are in so much trouble, Steve!" He's laughing and Steve knows he doesn't mean actual trouble, but he still winces at the interrogation he's going to get.
"Sam…" he pleads, "I'll be home soon."
"No later than 11. You hear me? It's a school night."
"Yes, sir." Steve says with an eye roll.
"Ew." Sam huffs, "don't ever call me that again."
Steve laughs, his chest loosening a bit, "yes, sir."
"Steve."
"Sam."
"I'm hanging up now."
"Good."
"Love you kid, get home safe."
Steve's eyes close at the natural way Sam just casually says that. "Love you too" he says back, his throat tight. The line clicks off and Steve shoves his phone back in his pocket, "sorry about that."
"No need to apologize, I didn't mean to take up your evening."
"You're not." Steve assures her, "Sam's just—-"
Peggy smiles, "seems to care about you a lot?"
Steve winces, "could you hear him?"
"His shock that you're out with a girl? Or the over protectiveness of where you are at the moment?"
Steve groans, "sorry."
"It's adorable actually."
"It's really not."
Peggy surprises him by standing up and slipping next to him on his side of the booth. "Let me see your phone."
He looks at her questioningly but pulls it out and hands it over. She deftly swipes to the camera and holds it out in front of them, "smile." She says easily, following her own directions.
Steve looks at the phone, whose camera is facing them, and he feels incredibly self-conscious at the difference that he sees in their appearances. She's beautiful and effortless and charming, and he's just… Steve. All big eyed and narrow faced and… plain Steve.
"Smile." She reminds him softly, "I promise it doesn't hurt."
Her light teasing makes him laugh and she snaps a picture at that moment, capturing him with a soft smile and his eyes bright behind the lenses of his glasses.
She then clicks the share button and sends it in a text message to a number he doesn't recognize.
"There." She says firmly, "now you can prove to your father that you were indeed with a girl and now you also have my number and we both have a picture of our first date."
He looks over at her in surprise and says, "first?"
She shakes her head at him, "you really are impossible, you know that?"
"So I've been told." He manages to joke.
"Well, I've had a fun evening, and I'd like to do it again. Would you?"
He nods, and she laughs, "oh, no, back to the nods are we?"
He ducks his head and scratches at the back of his neck, "of course I'd like to see you again."
"Then it's a second date."
He smiles and she smiles back.
—-
They've paid and left the cafe, heading towards the subway and Steve swears she brushes her hand against his, but he doesn't have the courage to take it just yet.
"So," she starts, as they walk down the steps to the platform, "Sam's overprotective of you… because?"
Steve stiffens at the question, really such an innocent question with a thousand loaded answers. One of them being his muddied background at the house, and his life of unfortunate experiences, and he doesn't know what answer to give her.
"He's just a good dad. Looks out for all of us."
She raises her eyebrow again in a way that tells him she knows he's being evasive. But she doesn't press.
"I'll see you on Thursday?" She asks, standing up when her station approaches.
"Yeah," he says with a small smile, "Thursday."
She leans over and places a soft kiss on his cheek, making his eyes widen in surprise and the blush rise up from his collar, "good night Steve." She says softly, before stepping out the doors and disappearing from sight.
He stands there frozen until his stop comes up and he manages to somehow exit the subway car.
He walks to the house, slipping quietly into the door, hoping everyone's asleep. But Sam is obviously awake, his door open and light on, so Steve knows he's waiting for him.
"Sam, I'm home." He says softly, right outside the door.
"Come in—" Sam calls back. When he walks in, he sees Sam sitting at his computer, looking at something on the screen intensely.
"Sorry about not calling. I really will make sure it doesn't happen again."
Sam looks up, about ready to say something when his voice dies in his throat and a wide grin takes its place.
"Sam?" But Sam doesn't say a word, just stands up, eyes pinned on Steve and suddenly he's shoving him gently out the door and pushing him along the hallway, "Sam? What is it?"
But Sam just opens the bathroom door and pushes Steve inside, turning on the light and twisting Steve to face the mirror. "Spill." Sam says with a grin a mile wide, pointing at his face.
Steve's mouth parts in surprise at the prominent lipstick mark on his cheek in the perfect shape of Peggy's lips.
He watches as his face goes red from root to chin and Sam laughs and laughs, holding onto Steve's shoulders to steady himself.
"Your face!" Sam gasps, "she must be something! You've got to tell me all about her."
And that's when Steve realizes why Peggy insisted they take a picture. He pulls out his phone, hesitating for only a moment before pulling the picture up and handing his phone to Sam.
Sam looks at the picture, frozen in place as his thumb ghosts over the image of Steve's laughing face. Sam looks up with wide eyes at Steve and he suddenly feels nervous and a bit embarrassed, maybe he shouldn't have—
"She's the one, isn't she?" Sam says with no hint of uncertainty.
Steve blinks at him, "what?"
Sam looks down at the photo again and just stares at it, then he passes Steve's phone back, "look at me and tell me you don't like this girl." Steve gapes at him and says nothing. "You do."
"I mean yeah, but I barely know her."
"And yet, you, a kid who overthinks everything, and doesn't leap into anything, and who I've never seen show even the slightest interest in a girl ever at all, now is standing here before me with a kiss on your cheek, a picture of her on your phone and—" Sam takes the phone back and looks at the messages, seeing the most recent one, to the unlabeled number that is Peggy's "let me guess— this her?" Steve nods and Sam shakes his head in disbelief with a smile, "this is the one."
"You can't know that." Steve says, suddenly feeling defensive.
But Sam doesn't back down, "Okay, Steve. Look me in the eye and tell me you don't think she's the one."
And Steve finds that he can't. Because saying that would be a lie. He wants her to be. Even though he barely knows her. Even though it's been one date. He just has that feeling. She's right. She's the right one.
Sam shakes his head again and lays a hand on Steve's shoulder. "She's beautiful. She nice to you?"
"Yeah," Steve whispers, "she's really nice. And really smart too."
"She know about you?"
Steve grimaces, "which part?"
Sam shrugs, "any of it."
Steve swallows and turns, leaning against the counter. "No. Just that my parents are dead and I live here."
"Steve." He looks up at Sam who has a somber face. "You may not want to hear this but—" he sighs, "if you want to date this girl, and let me be clear, I think you should, I think there's some things you should tell her."
Steve closes his eyes, feeling dread. "Do I have to?"
Sam sighs and leans against the counter with him. "I think it's fair for her to know about some of the more delicate aspects of your medical history."
Oh. Like the ticking time bomb that is his health.
"What if that changes how she feels about me?" Steve hates how small his voice sounds.
"Then you don't want her around anyways." Sam says firmly, "but, I don't know, kid." Sam taps on the photo on the screen, "Something about this girl gives me the impression that it wouldn't change a thing."
"You can't know that." Steve repeats, looking down at the photo.
"Only one way to find out." Sam nudges his shoulder.
"I know you're right. I'll tell her soon…" Then he pauses. "Sam?"
"Yeah?"
His throat gets tight and he closes his eyes to try to keep them from getting watery. "Should I even pursue this? Is it fair to get attached to her, and maybe even her get attached to me when my death is imminently on the horizon?"
His voice cracks on the last word and Sam pulls him into a hug, holding him tightly and Steve wraps his arms around his in response.
"Steve." Sam says, his chin resting on top of Steve's head. "You deserve to live a full long life. And I hope you do. But there's absolutely no doubt in my mind that you should get to live a full life for as long as you're able. That means living it to the fullest in every way. So, yeah. Date this girl, but tell her the truth so she gets to make an informed decision about being in your life."
They stay there for a minute before Sam takes the phone again and looks at the picture. "You look really happy in this photo. Can't tell you how happy that makes me."
Steve swipes the phone from his hands and rolls his eyes. "I'm a generally happy kid, Sam."
Sam blinks at him, and there's a second too long of a pause before Sam nods, "yeah, Steve. I know." He says with a smile. But Steve watches as it doesn't reach his eyes.
"Sam." Steve says in a rush, "I promise. I am."
Sam shakes his head, "Steve, the day after I met you, you got kidnapped. And since then it's been one thing after another, I—"
"I'm sorry." Steve cuts in, voice cracking, "I'm really sorry—"
"Steve!" Sam snaps, cutting him off, "I'm not— You don't get it—" he takes a deep breath, "I'm not saying that because I think it's your fault. I'm saying that because I can't wait for the day when there's not something like the weight of the world weighing on your shoulders. I hate being unsure whether you're happy or not. One day, it will just be you living your life, and when you say you're happy, I'll believe you."
"You don't believe me now?"
"It's not that I don't believe you, it's that I want it to be fully true."
"Meaning?"
"When you say 'I'm happy' it sounds like you're saying, 'I'm as happy as I can be with the lot I've been given'." He looks at Steve, "am I wrong?"
Steve winces, "I guess not."
"Then that's what I'm trying to say. I want your 'I'm happy' to be just that. No caveats."
"You're using a lot of complicated words, Sam." Steve jokes, trying to lighten the mood.
"Then you better get to bed so you won't be too tired to learn complicated things at school, huh?"
"Yeah." Steve says, wiping at his cheek, "night Sam."
"Night, Steve."
—
The next morning Sam catches him as he's about to head to school. "You going to tell the others about her?"
Steve chuckles, "how about I see whether she's going to stay in my life or not first, huh?"
Sam blinks and then scrunches his nose, "smart move."
"I thought so."
"Have a good day."
"I will." He says with a genuine smile.
—-
Bucky and him sit together at lunch with Natasha and Scott who is eager to fill almost any silence.
"You got something on your mind?" Bucky asks him, nudging his side.
Steve looks up and notices that they're all staring at him. "Uh, what?"
"Natasha asked if you were going to come with us to Clint's work tonight and you were zoned out."
Steve laughs, "sorry, yeah I was zoned out. Sure, yeah I'll go, even just to watch."
"You don't want to climb?" Natasha asks.
"My joints probably wouldn't appreciate it." Steve says wryly, rubbing at the knuckles on both hands. "But I'll watch."
They nod and Steve can't help but go back to zoning out, remembering the way her hand brushed against his and the way her lips felt against his cheek.
—
Thursday night comes and he receives a text from the number he now has saved as P. Carter.
Are we still on for tonight?
He responds before he can talk himself out of it
Yeah, I got something I want to talk to you about
She responds quickly,
Color me intrigued
See you at 7
See you then
—-
When Hope sees Peggy waiting for him again, she practically high fives him and Steve has to wave her away to avoid melting into a puddle of embarrassment.
He walks over the the bench and gets her attention. "You ready?" He asks.
"Quite." She responds, gathering her things and smiling at him. She stands and they decide to go to the cafe again.
Once they're settled, he watches as she looks at him seriously, "what did you want to talk to me about?"
He looks around, trying to decide how to word what he's going to say… Wondering what her response will be.
She's patient, waits without pushing as he gathers his thoughts.
"I'm—" he starts, and his voice instantly trails off. He feels his heart beat increase and his lungs fight for air and he can't say another word because admitting it out loud feels like defeat and a death sentence and everything he should be okay with right now but how do you ever feel okay about only getting to live 20-ish years. So he stops talking and just stares out the window.
She reaches out and places her hand on his. "No rush, Steve." She whispers.
His hesitation must show on his face, and it makes him take a deep breath, willing himself to not need his inhaler. "I'm sick." He pushes out, feeling his pulse quicken further at the words.
She blinks at him and her face shifts, concern growing, "I assume since you're telling me in such a way that we aren't discussing the common cold?"
He shakes his head and gently pulls his hand out from under hers, resting it in his lap instead.
"I'm not, uh— I'm not—" he looks anywhere but her face, "I won't be—- uh, I didn't want to…" he looks at the table, unable to finish that sentence. His eyes follow the grain of the wood, "I didn't want to not tell you, in case it would change your mind."
"Steve. What exactly would change my mind?"
He winces and looks at her. Her eyes bore into his and he sighs, "I'm not expected to last very long."
"That's an odd choice of words for something so serious." She says in a clipped tone. "Explain."
And though he doesn't want to, he does. "I was born with a heart condition. And some circumstances in my life aggravated it, and I just recently was diagnosed with an autoimmune disorder—" his voice is hoarse, but he doesn't stop. If he stops now, he'll have to try again and he doesn't think he can say it twice, "— so, I just wanted to tell you, so you would know."
Her voice is hard, "know what, Steve?"
"For you to know that I can't be long term. In case you don't want to waste your time."
She looks at him in disbelief and anger. She stands up from her stool at the high top table and faces away from him, her shoulders tense. For one brief second he thinks she's going to walk away. To leave him and that will be that. Instead she turns around and stabs a finger at him.
"You think so little of me?"
"What?"
"You think you could frighten me away with that?"
"What? Peggy, no, I—"
"How long."
"Peggy—"
"How long, Steve?" And the horrible deja vu that question gives him, shifts his gravity.
"Four-ish years." He says firmly, meeting her intense gaze.
And it must be shorter than she expected because her mouth makes that delicate 'o' shape again and she steps closer to him. "Then we won't waste a moment, shall we?"
He's not sure what she means by that, until she's pulling at his coat and kissing him so fiercely that his mind goes haywire.
Her warm hands touch his cool cheek and run through his hair and he can barely think to register what to do.
He feels her smile against his lips and the urge to kiss her back takes only a second to kick into gear. The fear he'd felt that she might truly take him up on his offer to leave, dissipates and a new desire to know everything about her, including how she feels to kiss, builds in his chest. He wraps his arms around her back, pulling her close, and reveling in the way her body feels pressed up against his.
A whistle from somewhere in the cafe has them breaking apart and she smiles at him with a wicked look in her eye. "You know, I've never kissed a boy in a cafe before."
Half disbelief and half adrenaline makes him smile dazedly, "I've never kissed a girl before."
She eyes him with what is now his favorite look, the raised eyebrow, "you're joking?"
He shakes his head 'no', feeling his cheeks heat at the fact that he'd just had his first kiss, very heatedly, in a very public place. She sits back across from him and smirks, "well," she says, wiping at what must be lipstick on his lips, "you're a very intuitive learner then."
"Huh?"
She just laughs and leans on her elbows towards him. "I don't know what life has in store for us, but I don't do anything in halves." She looks at him very seriously. "I'd love to be a part of your life, for however long I'm able."
"Even—" he starts to ask, because despite the kiss and the adrenaline pumping his heart too hard, he still can't quite believe it, "even if it's just a few years?"
She leans forward and uses her gaze to invite him to meet her halfway where she places a much softer, more tender kiss on him, before leaning back and smiling at him. "For however long I'm able."
He looks at her, feeling this innate sense that what Sam said was right, that she is the one. He just doesn't know how it makes sense for that to be. She must see the warring of his thoughts because her voice grows quiet, "Steve? What is it?"
"You barely know me, but you're willing—" he pauses, unsure how to say it without sounding pathetic or crazy.
"Willing to waste my time on you?" She asks, a bit of annoyance in her tone. "Steve, if I thought you were a waste of time, I wouldn't bother. I don't waste my time. Like I said, I've never done anything in halves." He's not quite sure how to respond but she looks at him and her eyes shift, and for the first time he sees a bit of hesitation on her face. "Can I admit something to you?" He nods and she looks at the table, tracing the thin white plate that had held a scone. "When I first saw you in Erskine's office all those months ago, I felt like—" she looks up at him, almost daring him to argue, "like I was supposed to see you then." Her lips set firmly for a minute, but when he doesn't interrupt, she continues, "then I saw you here and there and each time I felt a pull, as if… as if we were meant to speak or connect in some way. But that's crazy isn't it? That sort of set fate doesn't exist. Except… then I saw you in the hallway and I had to say something. I had to. And then we talked for hours and I just knew."
She pauses and his heart is pounding in his chest. "Knew what?" He asks, his voice hoarse.
"I'm only 17," she says, her eyes meeting his, "but I've never not known what I've wanted. And I'm sure every adult would have something to say about teenagers and permanence. But—" she looks at him and he almost would describe the look as possessive, not that he minds, "I want you, or… at least a chance to get to know you and be with you. No matter for how long. But no matter whether it's a week, or four-ish years, it won't be a waste of my time."
"I knew it too." He blurts out. "My dad called me out on it. Saying you must be the one, and I told him he's crazy and he couldn't know that. But he's right. You're right." And they stare at each other in mutual surprise and disbelief and… excitement. And Steve says something he'd never imagined saying ever in his entire lifetime. "I want to kiss you again."
She smiles and leans forward, "by all means."
—-
He's on cloud nine by the time he gets home that he almost misses Clint sitting on the front steps.
"Steve?"
He smiles, "hey Clint."
"What's up with you?"
"What do you mean?"
Clint looks at him and stares "something's different."
Steve looks down as if searching for something, "what?"
"You," Clint says, standing up and looking at him in the dim street light, "you look, I don't know—" Clint's eyes widen, "who is she?"
And Steve thinks about denying it, about playing it off, but if the way their conversation and the way she kissed him goodnight was any indication of the future, she was going to be around for the rest of his life, however short that may be.
Steve nods, sinking to the ground, resting his folio on his lap.
"Peggy," he smiles, "her name is Peggy."
"She cute?" Clint asks in a joking tone, sitting next to Steve.
He takes his phone out of his pocket and pulls up the picture, handing the phone to Clint.
"Holy crap." Clint huffs, "she's not just cute, she's hot!"
"Hey!" Steve snaps, "be respectful."
Clint guffaws, clutching at his chest and laughing so hard that Steve thinks he might pass out. Which after that comment, fine.
The door opens behind him and he looks back to see Natasha standing in the doorway. "Thought I heard the local hyenas out here."
Clint is still shaking his head, "you know about this?" And before Steve can stop him, he tosses his phone to Natasha, who gapes at the photo.
"Ummm," She huffs, "who the hell is this?"
Clint bats his eyelashes, "Peggy."
"Guys." Steve groans, pretending to be annoyed and not actually being annoyed at all, "leave it be."
"Does Bucky know?" Natasha asks.
"No." Steve huffs, "I've only been on two dates with her."
"TWO!" Both Clint and Natasha shout. Natasha squeezes onto the step with them, her eyes alight.
"Tell us!"
Steve laughs and then leans back, his spine resting against the stone steps.
"She—"
"Wait!" Natasha shouts holding up her hand, "hold on."
Clint and Steve look at her questioningly and she digs out her phone. "Bucky?" She says when someone answers, "come over to the house." She laughs, "tell your mom that Steve had a date." They hear a shout over the phone as Natasha holds it away from her ear and winces. They actually hear Bucky's house door slam from all the way around the building and they're laughing as they hear him sprint over. He slides to a stop in front of them, panting.
"What!?" He shouts, hauling Steve up and shaking him, "WHAT!"
Steve's laughing and they ask him a million questions that he just sits and waits for them to stop so he can actually answer them.
When they pause to take a breath, Steve looks at them, "hold on." He pulls out his phone and dials a number.
"Hello? Steve?"
"Hey Tony, you busy?"
Steve hears something pop and then something clang against metal and a loud "shit!" Before it falls silent and Tony says, "nope, what's up?"
"Well," Steve says, with a grin on his face, "I"ve got Natasha, Clint, and Bucky here too and I didn't want to tell this more than once."
Tony's voice gets concerned, "tell us what?"
"About the girl."
There's the sound of glass crashing and they all wince as Tony lets loose a round of expletives, "A WHAT!"
Steve laughs, "you were right you know. There was a girl."
Tony huffs and hollers and waxes long about how he knew it, but then quiets down, asking, "who is she?"
So Steve tells them.
—
At the end of his story, which truth be told isn't actually all that long considering the two dates they've been on, the three of them are staring at him and Tony is uncharacteristically silent. He looks at them, the concerned looks on their faces and sighs, "save yourselves the lecture."
"Steve—" Natasha starts, "you can't know something like that after two dates."
Steve just laughs, "maybe you can't, but I can. Even Sam said so."
Bucky widens his eyes, "what? Sam knows about this?"
Steve nods. "Yeah, he called it after the first date. When he told me to tell her about my life expectancy." They start to protest but he puts his hands up, "listen, if I knew I had another 70 years to live, I'd maybe listen to you. But for all that I know, I have 4, maybe. And I can't explain it, neither could she. And I get it, we're teenagers, we're young and maybe things will change, I don't know. But that's the point. I don't know the future, but I know right now."
Clint shakes his head, "I've never seen you like this. Stubborn and bullheaded, yes, but… so sure about something in your future?" He holds up his hands, "I don't know what this girl has brought out in you, but I like it. No more arguments from me."
Steve nods at him and looks at Bucky and Natasha, then holds the phone up to his mouth, "what about you Tony? Any arguments?"
He hears Tony sigh. "I'm not exactly the relationship aficionado, so I'm just happy to see you happy." There's a brief pause, "even if you're only a junior in highschool and it's highly unlikely for her to be the actual one."
Steve huffs out a laugh, "thanks for the vote of confidence." He looks at the other two, "and from you?" Bucky opens his mouth but Steve holds up a finger, "before you say anything, need I remind you, that unless you're going to look at me and tell me that you guys think each other isn't 'the one' that your argument is pointless." They gape at him and Clint laughs, making Steve chuckle. "Exactly. Are you guys gonna get married? Maybe, maybe not. But you're dating like you might someday, right?" Neither speak and Steve just waves at them as if that answers his question. Then he looks at them with a smirk and says, "I'm dying, let me have this one okay?" Bucky glares at him and so does Natasha. He looks over and Clint looks somber and the phone is silent. He sighs, "you all wanted me to cheer up, and this is how you act when I do?"
"Joking about your death isn't exactly cheery." Tony says over the phone, "and for clarification. You're not dying."
Steve nods, "maybe. But, now with the trial over, and the brothers caught, I feel like I can finally move on. Enjoy the last few years in peace—" Bucky opens. his mouth and Steve cuts him off, "or however many years. Okay?"
"When do we get to meet her?" Natasha asks, "this oh so perfect partner of yours."
Steve smiles, "whenever. Maybe this weekend?"
They nod and Steve pulls out his phone.
S: How would you feel about meeting my family this weekend?
It takes a few minutes but he smiles at the response
P: I'd love to. When and where?
S: Sunday, at a sandwich shop called Milo's, 1p.m.?
P: I'll be there.
Steve shows them the text and is caught off guard by the way Bucky's looking at the messages.
"What?" He asks defensively.
Bucky looks up and smiles, "you called us your family?"
And Steve furrows his brow, "of course."
He watches as all three of them look at each other and relax. "Okay, fine." Bucky says, leaning against Natasha's legs, "we'll meet her.""
Steve laughs, "oh, now you'll meet her?"
"Don't listen to grumpy pants." Natasha says with a chuckle, "you know he just gets real jealous when it comes to anyone else spending time with you."
Bucky huffs, flipping them off and they all laugh.
—