Peggy trotted up the dimly lit stairs behind Steve, breathing evenly and not breaking a sweat.
"You doing ok back there?" Steve asked over his shoulder.
"Right as rain. Neat little thing, that serum," she added softly as they reached the fifth floor. As they turned the corner, they were met with an elderly woman shuffling down the hall.
Steve smiled widely. "Good evening, Mrs. O'Reilly!"
"Hello, Steven! Who's this?" she asked in her thick Irish accent. Peggy smiled back, soaking in the sound of someone from home. Not home, exactly, being an Englishwoman, but close.
"This is my girlfriend, Peggy," he said smoothly, though blushing slightly. She knew based on Mrs. O'Reilly's age she may have something to say about Steve living with a woman he was not married to. Peggy wasn't entirely sure if they were officially a couple or not, but it would probably be worse if Steve was allowing a random woman to move in, so she didn't say anything.
If it upset her, she didn't show it. She extended one gnarled hand to Peggy, beaming. "And what a beautiful young lady she is. I'm Mrs. O'Reilly, the land lady. And you are?"
"Margaret Carter, but everyone calls me Peggy."
"Pleasure to meet you, Peggy. I live just across the hall from Steven, and you are always welcome over, as long as you don't mind the cats." She patted Steve's arm, smiling up at him, "it's a nice boy you have, Miss Carter."
It was Peggy's turn to blush. "The best."
"Going down, Mrs. O'Reilly?" Steve asked, setting down Peggy's suitcase and gallantly offering the elderly woman his arm.
She waved him off, "thank you Steven, but I'm just fine. You both have a nice day."
Steve waited anxiously at the top of the stairs, watching the very caricature of a little old lady's receding narrow form. He waited until he could no longer see the back of her thick sweater and the low click of her thick, rubber soled shoes had slowly made it down to the next floor. He shook his head, "I wish she would move down to the lower floors."
"She seems to be quite capable," Peggy offered, recognizing the furrowed brow of a man deep in thought.
"She is," he allowed, collecting the suitcase, "but I wish she would let me help her more. I just…" he sighed, the key in the lock, then glanced around. "We can talk about it inside." Steve twisted the key, throwing the door open, flipping on the lights. "Home sweet home!"
Peggy stepped in, taking in her new home. It was fairly cluttered, tilting rows of books arranged haphazardly on free standing shelves, a record player resting on an end table shoved in a corner next to an armchair. What she recognized from the Stark household as a laptop computer was sitting on a desk, obviously rarely used in comparison to the bulky, black metal typewriter beside it. She ran her fingers over the stack of drawings adjacent to the typewriter, rolling and warping from humidity. Hanging above the old tin coffee can housing pencils and pens was the yellowed drawing of the monkey balancing on a tightrope, holding the original shield.
"So?" Steve asked nervously.
Peggy realized she hadn't said anything. "I really like it," she said softly with a smile.
"Really? It's kind of a mess right now, I would've run back and cleaned but it just didn't cross my mind."
She ran her hand over the faded chair, studying the couch that was once deep red in a past life. "I recognize these things, though. This is what I knew when I woke up in 1945 the other day. This is more comfortable to me than the Stark home." Peggy gestured over her shoulder to the drawings. "I didn't know you kept the monkey drawing."
He shrugged, hands in his pockets. "It reminds of where I've been."
"I like the drawings, I'm glad you've kept it up all these years."
"It helps me work through stuff." His eyes settled on a drawing of the Howling Commandos.
"What happened to them?" Peggy asked gently.
"They all survived the war. Jonathan Juniper-we called him Junior Juniper?-he died on a mission in '46." He paused, "you were with him when he died. Dum Dum Dugan, all the rest were there too."
Peggy bit down hard on her cheek, swallowing down her emotion with practiced precision. "What happened to the rest of them?"
"They've all died by now. There was a nice exhibit at the Smithsonian about them, I'm not sure if it's still up."
"What were you going to say earlier, about Mrs. O'Reilly?" Peggy asked, deftly changing the topic to avoid any more discomfort for Steve.
"Oh, I don't like mentioning how old I really am in public. Raises questions, I get tired of answering them. I was going to say that she's between you and I age wise, I'm not sure when exactly. It makes me feel better to help her, and others like her, I figure I couldn't be there for the other Commandos, or Bucky, or you, really, until the end. The very least I could do is try to help her as much as I can."
They both paused, Peggy getting a real grip on how old they really were in this world.
"Besides, it's hard to find people with shared life experience at this point. She's a neat lady, worked as a nurse in the Second World War and again in Korea."
Peggy paused, rolling the information around in her head and trying to remember what she learned about the Korean War from the series of documentaries.
"Oh! I'll show you your room." He crossed the living area, taking Peggy's suitcase with him, opening one of two doors opposite the kitchen. The room was an odd, boarder line lima bean color, the bed centered against the far wall, a small closet perpendicular to it. "I'm not really used to having guests sleep here, so I haven't done a whole lot with this room, but you can do what you want with it."
"Thank you, I will be very comfortable here."
"Really?" Steve seemed doubtful.
"When I last saw you, we were sleeping in an army encampment. This is much, much better."
He smiled, "I suppose." The pair stood looking at each other, unsure whether or not to move closer.
Peggy took a half step forward, "I-"
Steve's phone (if you call it that, it looked nothing like what she knew) chose that moment to start ringing. He glanced down at it, his brow furrowing again. "Sorry, it's Tony's house. Hello? Morgan? Slow down, slow down. Peter-what? I have a what? That's impossible I've never…Morgan, can you put your mom on the phone, please? Hey, Pepper, what's going on?"
Minding her business, Peggy cracked open her suitcase and began to arrange her clothes on the wire hangers.
"Ok, ok I'll…take a look at it, I guess. Can we come tomorrow, if you don't mind? It's just getting late. Thanks, Pepper. Alright, see you tomorrow." Hanging up, he rubbed his temple.
"Everything alright?" Peggy inquired casually.
Steve sighed, leaning against the doorway. "How are you with dogs? Because apparently I have a dog, now."
Less than twenty four hours after leaving, Steve and Peggy found themselves back at the Stark residence the next morning. Steve rang the bell.
"And we're sure it's your dog?"
"I guess, I don't know, we'll see what Pepper says. Just…don't get attached, ok?"
Peggy shrugged. "Alright."
"Hi Mr. Rogers, hi Miss Carter!" Peter threw the door opening, beaming at the couple. As soon as they'd crossed the threshold, the kid starting talking a mile a minute. "You're gonna love him! I guess Mr. Stark didn't clean out his freezer very often, or his dad. I mean, how did they not notice a whole-" A large mass of fur threw itself onto Steve, making him cough hard. "-dog," Peter finished.
"The dog was where?" Steve said, eyeing the grinning golden retriever, one paw on either side of the captain's chest. "Easy, easy, down…good boy." He sighed, "big boy."
"He came with a note," Pepper entered the room, waving a brittle piece of paper. She greeted Peggy and Steve, then slid the paper to Peggy. "Give it a read."
"How are you Pepper?" Peggy asked, eyeing the dark circles under Pepper's eyes.
"I've had a five year old and a super dog awake since four, how do you think?"
"A super-? Can you read it aloud, Peg?" Steve asked, accepting the large yellow paw offered by the dog.
Peggy cleared her throat. "'To whom it may concern,'" she began, "'I'll cut straight to the point: after Captain Steven Rogers (famously known as 'Captain America') went missing, S.H.I.E.L.D. started trying to remake the serum by Dr. Erskine-'"
"They must have started the program when we brought you to the future," Steve interrupted.
Peggy ignored him and continued, "'-recently deceased. We were able to isolate a prototype form, but since it was too risky to test on humans, we chose the two year old male golden retriever here attached -'"
"It was attached?"
"Hush, Steve and let me finish," Peggy quipped. "'to be our first subject in the hope of not only producing more super soldiers, but super dogs as well, hopefully for bomb detection. Upon discovering that the dog was a success in that it lived, but all of its qualities were amplified. The subject it hyper-affectionate, hyper-active, has an incredibly fast metabolism and-'"
The dog chose this moment to run full speed into the glass door, bouncing off of it. The party paused a moment, watching in shock as the golden leapt to its feet, growling at the deer outside, unphased.
"-an idiot.'" Peggy finished. "'Many of those working on the project got too emotionally attached (namely Agent Phil Coulson) to euthanize the subject. Seeing as it has needs to high for any one person to attend to, we put the subject in a deep sleep and froze it for the foreseeable future. Whether it is to be removed from said stupor is the decision of whoever finds the dog. Signed, Howard Stark.'"
"Doesn't explain why the dog was stuck in that freezer all these years," Steve said, rubbing the dog's head. "Hulk-proof glass, buddy. You won't be making that mistake twice, will you?" The dog's tail thumped the ground in response.
"To be fair, Tony wasn't the biggest one for responsibility, or caring for living things, He couldn't even keep up with a plant," Bruce offered, suddenly appearing. "Hey Cap, pleasure to see you again Agent Carter. Pepp called me to run a blood test on the dog, see if it checked out."
"Why wouldn't it?" Peter asked.
"Peter, I wouldn't put it past you to put a dog in a freezer in an effort to coerce us into getting a dog," Pepper commented.
"Um, excuse me? The ASCPA would be all over me!"
"Does it check out?' Peggy inquired, remembering the important questions.
"Wouldn't have called you down here if it didn't," Bruce responded with a shrug.
"Why us?" Steve asked, though his voice was muffled from where he bent down to scratch the dog's belly.
"Because you and Peggy are the only two who could keep up with it. You both have serum, here's a serum infused dog. The rest of us are super, sure, but we don't have the qualities to keep up with this guy." He stroked the dog with one green finger, receiving happy kisses as thanks.
"Does he have a name?" Peggy scanned the note in case she missed it.
Pepper shook her head. "Not to my knowledge."
"Poor little guy," Steve sympathized with the golden ball of fur at his feet.
Sipping a juice box, Morgan plopped down on the floor next to the dog. "So are you going to keep him, Uncle Steve?"
"Why not you, Peter?"
"Sorry, Mr. Rogers, but our apartment doesn't allow pets."
"Bruce?" Steve asked.
"I don't want him around my stuff. He's a hungry guy, and I've got a lot he shouldn't get into beyond the basic garbage can."
Steve raised his eyebrows at Pepper. She threw up her hands, "no way. I'm running a company, it's a super dog, and besides-" Morgan cut her off with a sneeze. "Morgan's allergic."
"Sam? Bucky? Rhodey?"
"No, no and no, trust me, we asked," Bruce clarified.
"Clint has a whole farm-"
"And three kids. Clint said yes, Laura said no and won the coin toss."
Steve turned to Peggy. "I don't know…"
"You were looking for someone with shared life experience. What could be better than a science experiment frozen for decades?" Peggy said cheekily.
Steve paused. "Winston."
"Winston?"
"Makes sense, given our background."
"Winston," Peggy repeated. "A rather intelligent name for him."
"That's why it works."
She smiled, "Very well then."