Layer on Layer

“Every now and then one paints a picture that seems to have opened a door and serves as a stepping stone to other things.”
― Pablo Picasso

“Come on,” Steve said, waving his paintbrush at her. “You can do it.”

Peggy looked from his smile, a distraction of monumental proportions, to the paintbrush he was offering. Whether it be a wide roller, or a fine arts brush for detailed work, Steve Rogers had a way with paint. And it was mesmerizing.

“No, no. I couldn’t.”

Steve only grinned wider. “Not true. You’ve painted with me before. You painted a whole dining room wall.”

“That was different. Straight lines. This,” she said gesturing at the already transformed wall, “this I could mess up.”

Why was it that the big things seemed like no brainers? If you messed them up you’d get over the wracking heartache eventually, but when it came to the small things, they could cause endless sleep-deprived nights of agonizing or irritation.

“Oh come on Peggy, you can do it.”

It was just some paint on a wall.

“Really, Steve, I have no artistic abilities. Definitely none to compare to yours. I’d be too concerned with ruining your work.”

“You won’t!”

She loved his optimism, loved his ability to turn her into a smiling, giggling, carefree girl, even after long grueling days babysitting the likes of Howard Stark and the other asinine adolescents that gave her a hard time at work. But with Steve, life was simpler, kinder and more colorful.

“Just one flower. One leaf,” he urged, holding out the brush with the neat bristles even further.

Peggy hesitantly took the proffered brush. “Maybe a leaf. A tiny one. In the corner.” She bit back her own smile when his exploded across his face with triumph. “But you have to promise that when I muck up this lovely wall, you’ll be able to fix it.”

He laughed. “You won’t. I’ll show you exactly what to do.”

And so Peggy could only follow his instructions, as he showed her the leaf she was to paint, how she could fill the space with green paint in three easy strokes. But something about making the marks felt permanent, like they held a lot of weight.

However, she couldn’t deny that Steve, just inches from her back, caused a welcome flutter in her stomach. And when he adjusted the position of the brush in her fingers, she was delighted at him immediately pulling away, unaware his cheeks were blotchy. It wasn’t the first time she’d seen him react to her, but it was nice all the same, to know just the brushing of fingers could create a lovely effect on his face.

Peggy painted the three strokes quickly, like ripping off a bandaid, before she stuck the paintbrush right back into his hands.

Steve took a step back, and hummed loudly as his finger scratched under his chin.

“Ah, yes, see how the quick strokes show the artist’s intent to evoke movement within the piece,” he said in his best art critic voice.

She laughed. “Oh stop it.”

But when she stood back, she found that although it didn’t look particularly different than Steve’s, she would always know it was a leaf from her very hand.

Peggy’s happy night, blissfully dreaming of a handsome blond painter was cut short by a phone call at four a.m. It was Rose, calling for her immediate return to SHIELD headquarters. They finally got a hit on the suspected HYDRA agent they had been tracking for the past few months. He had just been spotted in New York.

She raced out of bed, grabbed the first outfit hanging in her closet, a skirt and blouse, and holstered her pistol in her thigh holster.

Howard was surprisingly already at SHIELD poking frantically at his tablet while scrolling on his cell phone at the same time. He followed her into her office without losing track of either device.

“What’s going on Howard?”

“Not looking good Peg,” he said without looking up.

“But we’ve located him?”

Howard nodded. “But we’ve got a problem. He’s got the weapon. And he means to distribute. And soon.”

“Where?” Peggy demanded. “We go retrieve it now, before it ends up in anyone else’s hands.”

“Rose and Thompson are narrowing it down. But if you’re going in hot,” he finally looked up at her, “as if ever don’t, you have to take precautions. This thing, it’s volatile.”

“What are we talking? An active explosive? The likes of your Nitramene?”

Howard grunted. “Worse Peg. For once, this isn’t one of my bad babies. This one… given the heat signature and what we know of HYDRA, they’re not afraid to play dirty. Real dirty.”

“Howard, believe it or not, I trust you, at least when it comes to scientific analysis. Tell me what’s worrying you.”

“Definitely some nasty piece of chemical weaponry. I think they mean to sell this to whoever wants it the most, to cause as much damage as possible. Only I worry they mean it to be a nasty way to have it spread. Lethal, probably very hazardous.”

Peggy cursed.

“Let’s get the team prepped,” she said firmly.

Twenty minutes later, Peggy was heading out, catching a ride from Mr. Jarvis while Roberts, Sousa, Thompson and Ramirez headed out in separate cars.

“Ah, to embark on another adventure with you Ms. Carter,” Jarvis said with a familiar twinkle in his eye.

“Yes, it’s been a while since you’ve rushed head first into certain danger,” Peggy replied dryly.

“I’m merely assisting in any way that I can,” he said cheerfully, “and happy to do so.”

Truthfully, she had missed his assistance just as much.

“And how’s your dear Mrs. Jarvis?”

“As lovely as ever. She’s been hoping to have you over for a real dinner sometime soon.”

Peggy tried to recall when exactly she had spent any real time with the Jarvises. Sure, she had run into them both a handful of times when she stayed at Howard’s home a few weeks back, but she had purposefully spent much of her time in her office to avoid them feeling obligated to include her in meals.

“Yes, I suppose it has been a while. Work’s kept me rather busy. That whole debacle with Senator Brandt took far too long to smooth out.”

“Naturally, I have explained as much to Ana.”

There was no accusation or guilt-tripping in Jarvis’ tone, and yet Peggy felt guilty all the same. Sure, she had a lot going on, but perhaps she had neglected those who had so readily taken her in. It wasn’t that she meant to, just that she supposed it was easier for all of them all this way.

“And of course, you’ve had your hands full with the remodel,” Mr. Jarvis added.

“Indeed.”

“I’ve heard Mr. Stark has some lovely ideas for further improvements on the interior.”

Peggy made a noise of disgust.

“I’m rather hoping he never gets the chance to pursue that ridiculous idea.”

“Oh?”

“The only way to really fix Howard’s ego issues is for him to find himself a proper project. Until then, I plan to delay his so-called improvements. Shouldn’t be too difficult.”

“And what do these plans consist of, if I may ask?”

“I’m having some of my walls worked on. And until the painter is finished, and I’m happy with the results, it’s too risky for some interior designer to walk in, trip over paint cans and tarps, and start thinking of decoration schemes that will clash with my unfinished paintwork.”

She could’ve sworn Jarvis looked amused. But before he could respond, Howard was barking a spurt of new information into her earpiece.

The sun had barely risen and it had all gone to shit. The weapon had turned up in a van full of identical volatile weapons in unassuming, nonthreatening boxes. And while Peggy had managed to grab a box out of the van, she had narrowly missed being shot. A bullet whizzed right by her ear. Then as she reached for her own gun, a second bullet grazed the outer side of her left thigh, a few inches above the knee. She managed to avoid dropping the box, just in time for Rose and Thompson to subdue and cuff the HYDRA agent.

But just as Peggy hissed in pain, just noticing the dripping blood, the van behind her had screeched out of the alley. Apparently the agent hadn’t been working alone as they assumed. And in the commotion, he managed to drive off with a van full of dangerous weapons. Peggy ignored her wound, set the box in Jarvis’ care and shouted orders at her team as she took off running after the van. She trained a shot, but just as it landed somewhere off the back of the vehicle, it disappeared around the corner. By the time Sousa and Ramirez had caught up, with Jarvis pulling up behind them, the van was long gone.

“Damn it,” Peggy bellowed in frustration.

“We’ll get it outta that scumbag in interrogation,” Thompson said.

“Uh Carter?” Sousa said as the rest of her team headed to the cars to regroup back at headquarters. “You’re bleeding.”

Peggy, still fuming with failure, was annoyed at his concern.

“I’m fine Agent Sousa,” she snapped. “Let’s get back to work.”

Daniel looked like he wanted to protest, but he didn’t. Instead he headed right back around and into the car Rose was driving.

Once he was gone, she cursed again. Mr. Jarvis ran out of the car surveying the blood.

“Perhaps we should stop on the way and get that looked at.”

“No need, Mr. Jarvis. It’s not as bad as it looks. And I’m tight on time as it were.”

Wordlessly, Jarvis pulled out his handkerchief and gestured her into the passenger seat.

“Well, let’s make sure the blood doesn’t stain the immaculate leather interior,” he said casually. “You know how Mr. Stark would fuss.”

Peggy watched him finagle a makeshift wound dressing with both his handkerchief and his tie wrapped snugly around it.

“This feels very familiar,” Peggy commented.

“Truck full of deadly weapons, Agent Carter refusing to let a wound stop her from seeking justice. Yes indeed, I think I’ve heard this tale a few times before.”

“I’m very lucky that you still insist on carrying around a handkerchief,” Peggy said.

“Quite, Ms. Carter. This is just one of many instances in the practicality of the old tradition of keeping a handkerchief on hand,” he replied in the same jovial tone. “I believe I shall carry one as long as we shall be acquainted.”

She smiled softly. “For quite some time then Mr. Jarvis.”

With her leg all wrapped, Jarvis headed back for the driver’s seat. Peggy shifted her left leg experimentally, just barely managing to hold in a whimper.

It was sunrise when they made it back to SHIELD. The day had barely begun and she already had a potential catastrophe on her hands to prevent. And as much as she ignored her leg, it throbbed, aching for attention. But she had no time to deal with a mere graze when there was some psychopath hauling around a whole stock of dangerous chemical weapons. And she didn’t know what HYDRA was planning but she certainly could imagine hundreds of increasingly terrible scenarios.

She focused on their two advantages: they had a man in custody, and Stark was already busy at work with the box Peggy had managed to retrieve.

It was afternoon when they finally had a break in the case. After long hours of interrogation, they found out that the explosive was going to be sold, auctioned off to various dangerous parties of New York City, without them even knowing the full extent of the weapon they were bidding on. What better way to incite terror than by having the city’s own residents dole out the dirty work.

Between the results of the interrogation, scrubbing hours of street camera footage, Stark analyzing the weapon and finally locating the site of the auction, Peggy felt more optimistic at completing the mission the way she had intended that morning.

She sent Agent Thompson to the auction, ostensibly because he was capable and trustworthy enough to handle that kind of assignment but also because his paired look and personality would fit right in with the sycophants and conniving kingpins in attendance.

It paid off. Big time.

By five-thirty, with no suspicions raised, Thompson had the winner’s delivery destination and the time of the drop.

It looked like she had a date at eleven p.m.

It was with this information that Peggy decided on the plan of her alone dropping in on the delivery. She’d have two backup teams stationed a half-mile out, but they needed to do this quietly, especially after the suspicions raised by the morning’s performance.

No, she would go it alone, quick and quiet, and attempt to steal the weapons from right under them.

The plan was set with no more use sitting around the office when she needed to get home and finish her prep. She headed home, hoping for a power-nap. Maybe she’d get a chance to rest her leg.

On her way out, Jarvis ran out of Stark’s office to join her, insisting on giving her a ride. She sighed but relented. The sooner she got home, the better, especially given the state of her thigh.

Jarvis refused to let her out of the car once they reached the loft.

“You know Ms. Carter, perhaps I could be of service tonight.”

“Mr. Jarvis, I am perfectly capable of doing this on my own.”

“Of course, I would never insinuate you are not incomparably skilled. However, it seems to me a very good idea to have a driver. Perhaps even a getaway car. And given your injury—”

“My leg is just fine,” she protested stubbornly.

“If you plan on posing as a rival buyer, it would do to really play the part.”

“Mr. Jarvis, I will not ask for your assistance. Not with a huge risk of you getting hurt. This morning already was a close call.”

“I’d merely act as your chauffeur for the evening. And I trust you to protect your humble servant.”

Peggy frowned, although the idea had merit. It would make her life easier.

“Fine. But you remain in the car. And you follow my orders to the letter.”

Jarvis’ mouth turned momentarily into a gleeful grin before he sobered up once more.

“Of course, Ms. Carter.”

She rolled her eyes. “Be here by half past nine. We’ll need to do some reconnaissance before we meet our friends.”

She marched through the lobby and into the elevator. Only on her way up, all alone, did she squeeze her eyes shut, feeling the full burning agony of her wound. She really did need to dress it properly.

Peggy grimaced and limped off the elevator looking forward to a moment’s rest.

Only her heart sunk further.

Sitting against the wall, just next to her door was Steve. She felt horrible. In the complete mess of her day, she had entirely forgotten their scheduled meet-up more than an hour earlier. It had escaped her completely, and yet there he was, still waiting for her.

He stared at her. Peggy realized she was still grimacing in pain. She immediately fixed her expression.

“I completely forgot,” she said. “I am so sorry. You shouldn’t have waited so long.”

She hoped she came across as nonchalant but sincerely apologetic, the latter of which was true.

But Steve’s gaze was still hard and he was looking at her legs.

Peggy pushed aside the curse bubbling at the tip of her tongue.

“Really, I feel horrible,” she said, unlocking the door. “I’ve wasted so much of your time.”

He held the door open with a broad palm, apparently still refusing to leave. Peggy forced herself not to limp across the threshold, biting her lip to avoid showing any visible sign of pain.

“I actually have to go back to work, so…” she said, hoping this would be enough to turn him around. “We’ll reschedule.”

He closed the door behind them.

“Peggy.”

“I promise not the stand you up again,” she said with a cheery put-on smile. “And of course, I will pay you for your time.”

His frown deepened.

“Peggy you’re hurt.”

“I’m fine.”

Steve crossed his arms. “You’re limping.”

“No I’m not.”

“Prove it,” he said firmly.

Peggy’s mouth opened to retort, to respond to his audacious command, only nothing came out. Instead, she gritted her teeth, inhaled and took exactly two careful steps forward, barely able to ignore the shooting pain. She glowered right at him as if to underline her point.

Steve was no more convinced.

“And how long do you think you can keep that up?”

“Until I’m finished with my job tonight,” she spat, accidentally moving in a way that sent another shooting pain through her leg. She let out an involuntary gasp.

Steve raced toward her, arms reaching to steady her.

Peggy looked defiantly at him but it was clear it was futile to try and fool Steve. She let herself be helped to the couch.

“Really, I’m fine.”

Steve pushed the coffee table closer before reaching gently for her left leg, stretching it out to rest on it.

“Can I take a look?”

She sighed and shrugged. He took this as a yes.

He sat at the edge of the coffee table and lifted her foot onto his lap. Her bare leg. He took her black stilettos off, his fingers brushing her ankles as he did. She almost let out a pleased noise. He didn’t touch her any more, just examined the visible length of her leg. She was mesmerized by his concentrated gaze.

“Upper thigh?” he guessed.

“Outer side,” she finally admitted.

Her skirt was already hitched just above her knees.

“May I?”

“Well you’ve already gotten this far,” she said.

There was a flicker of annoyance in Steve’s gaze, but he was undeterred.

Very carefully, he slipped her skirt up until it hit mid-thigh and part of the handkerchief and tie dressing appeared.

“Make-shift bandage?” he asked.

She hummed in response, her eyes closed at another wave of pain. She felt Steve’s hand reach out and touch part handkerchief, part thigh. The sound of Steve sucking a breath in through his teeth refocused her attention. He held up his index finger. It was wet with blood.

Peggy rolled her eyes, feeling betrayed at her own body. It hadn’t leaked all afternoon.

“Where’s your first aid kid?”

“I’ll get it. Really, I’ll clean it up later. I have to go—”

“Peggy, you are bleeding,” he enunciated, his face grave. “Now if you’d rather I don’t tear through your apartment, tell me where I can find it.”

“Under the bathroom sink,” she told him finally.

She sighed and slunk lower on the couch as he walked down the hall, pressing the unwrapped handkerchief back into her thigh. She appreciated his concern, really, she did. It was sweet, but she had to get ready for the mission.

Steve returned with the first aid kit and one of her bath towels.

“I thought you could…” he said, gesturing the towel at her lap.

He had already had his hands up her skirt and he was still concerned over her modesty. Peggy tucked the towel between her legs and draped it over each side before she pulled her skirt further up, baring more of her left thigh to him.

Steve sat back on the coffee table and gently placed her leg back into his lap. He worked on unwrapping Jarvis’ tie and as he unwound it, his hand brushed up against something that was decidedly not skin. Her pistol was still holstered. She had forgotten she hadn’t taken it off yet. His eyes widened at the sight and she knew it wasn’t because she was packing. Another smirk found itself playing on her lips.

Peggy reached down for it, unholstered the gun, made sure the safety was in place and set it aside on the end table. It took him a good moment to refocus on the task at hand.

But a second later he was inhaling sharply.

“This is a bullet wound,” he said plainly.

He was in the military and he had just watched her remove her pistol, for goodness sake there was no point bothering to deny it.

“I’ve had worse,” she replied instead.

It was true. She had suffered worse pains than this.

Steve looked at her in disbelief. “Peggy.”

What was it about him saying her name that made her feel like a scolded schoolgirl after getting caught in some mischief?

“It’s just a graze.”

“This needs stitches,” he cried back.

She bit her lip. She had been afraid of that.

“I’ll be fine. Like I said, I’ve had worse. And I have some unfinished business to attend to.”

Steve frowned deeply. “I’ll do it. Where’s your needle and thread?”

Peggy frowned back. “I don’t have time—”

“You have a bullet wound. If you don’t have time to go to the hospital then I’m going to stitch you up.” He stood without waiting for a response and started rummaging through nearby drawers.

“What, were you an army doctor?” she asked sarcastically, now truly annoyed.

“I’ve had enough relevant training,” he said with a straight face.

For some reason, even with the mild irritation flaring up within her, she found herself amused.

“In my bedroom, top left-hand drawer of the vanity,” she said, her clipped tone warring with her amused eyes. “And no dilly-dallying,” she yelled in his direction as he made his way down the hall.

“You ever get stitches like this?” Steve asked once he was back in place, cleaning her wound.

“Yes,” she replied matter-of-factly. “You ever give anyone stitches like this?”

He nodded, his skilled hands treating her skin delicately. “Twice. One was an arm wound, the other in the abdomen. That one was a lot messier than this.”

She snorted.

Just before he started stitching, he made a point of asking for her pain level.

“I’m just fine,” she said for the umpteenth time.

“I’m so sick and tired of everyone hiding their pain from me.”

His harsh tone actually startled her. She noted that he seemed upset but it didn’t seem right to ask.

“I’ll tell you if you’re hurting me,” she amended in a softer tone.

His eyes softened and he nodded, his full attention back on her wound.

Steve was meticulous and nimble, and within minutes she was all sewn up. He even found her two Steve-approved painkillers to ease the swelling and pain.

“Thank you,” she told him in a soft voice, looking from his blood-stained hands to her freshly bandaged thigh.”

“You’re welcome,” he said.

Steve carefully maneuvered both her legs along the length of the couch before leaving to wash his hands.

Peggy gave herself the brief moment to close her eyes, stretch her neck, and breathe. The moment she heard Steve’s approaching footsteps, her eyes opened, her face was schooled, and her skirt was pulled back down into place.

Steve was drying his hands, his gaze still hard and serious.

“Well…” Peggy said, leaning forward to prepare to move off the couch.

“What are you doing?”

“I really do have to go.”

He crossed his arms, his face in full disapproval.

She stood shakily, shifting all her weight onto her right leg, and crossed her arms mimicking his posture.

“So this unfinished business you have,” he started, “it’s in no way related to how you got that bullet wound?”

Peggy lifted her chin, grinding her teeth as irritation flared up again. She couldn’t possibly say anything either way, because she couldn’t share any information to a private citizen, as much as she liked and trusted Steve.

“It’s just a graze,” she hedged instead. “And I’m all patched up now.”

He didn’t budge.

“If you’ll excuse me.”

He blocked her path, not that he needed to because she faltered on her third step and he had to reach out to steady her.

“I’m not leaving,” Steve said.

And in that moment, she knew he was every bit as stubborn as her.

“Steve,” she said inhaling, “I’ve got everything under control.”

“Listen,” he sighed, “I’m not an idiot. You don’t have to tell me anything. I know you probably can’t. But Peggy, you can hardly walk. And I know you are not going back to some office to stare at a computer for the rest of the night.”

Peggy bit her lip. “I really appreciate your concern, really I do, but I cannot and will not ask for your help.”

“And what’s to stop me from following you?”

Peggy had to hide another amused smile. “Common decency and a respect for my privacy.”

Steve looked chagrined, caught off guard by a legitimate claim that she suspected he assumed she wouldn’t have. She could see exactly how hard he was working on a rebuttal.

“Okay, fair. But we’re talking about you walking into a dangerous situation. Without being able to actually walk.”

“I can handle myself.”

“I believe that. But think about this tactically. If it were anyone else, would you be sending them in alone under these conditions? They’d be more of a liability than an asset.”

He wasn’t wrong. But there was also a reason she hadn’t delegated the assignment either.

“You’re very stubborn,” she said, faintly smiling.

He narrowed his eyes, his biceps flexing as his arms banded tighter across his chest.

“Says the woman who would rather pretend she could walk just fine like she wasn’t leaking blood, than let me patch her up.” He quirked his eyebrow daring her to argue.

She looked him up and down carefully. Perhaps having someone of his overbearing stature could be beneficial. As long as it was kept quiet.

“We do this on my terms.”

Steve didn’t bother to hide his grin.

“It’s need to know and after tonight, you never speak of it again. You were here, painting. Nothing more.”

She saw the military readiness in his stance, and wondered how they had gotten to this point. This was a terrible idea.

Peggy sighed in sheer exhaustion, their face-off doing nothing good for her thigh.

“Well I guess that nap is out of the question now,” she muttered to herself.

Steve looked at his watch. “What time do you have to… get back to work?”

Peggy checked her phone. She had time sure, but there was still plenty she needed to do. She should check in on Stark, and confirm that both her teams were gearing up. And now, she also had to factor in not only Jarvis, but Steve as well. This was why she preferred working alone. She could control all the factors.

“Nine-thirty,” she said.

“Plenty of time to rest then. And you really should elevate that leg.”

She hummed noncommittally as a response.

“I need to take care of some things.”

Steve nodded. “Do I get to hear what I need to know?”

“Perhaps later. On the way.”

“Do we need a ride? I could probably borrow a car or something.”

“Steve, believe it or not, I really do have a handle on things. Now go relax, watch TV, help yourself to the fridge, what have you.”

But he insisted on helping her to her room first.

Inside, once she shut the door behind her, Peggy limped straight for her closet. If she was going to play the part as a rival buyer, she’d have to look it. And what better way than to have them underestimate her as nothing but a well-dressed woman. She pulled out one of the fancier dresses in her wardrobe then headed to the vanity to fix her hair and makeup. She found herself following Steve’s instructions and set her left leg on the nearby ottoman as she worked.

All the while she contemplated what Steve’s role in all this could be. Backup was definitely handy. She supposed a well-to-do woman would never be caught alone, whether he would play her date or the silent partner. She supposed the specifics didn’t quite matter. He and Jarvis would stay in the car.

When she walked out of the bedroom more than an hour later, a twenty minute power-nap under her belt, she was dressed, made up and holstered up, with her purse packed with gadgets. She was surprised to find Steve working on the poppies. She forgot herself for a moment and lost herself in admiring his work.

Steve turned after finishing a crimson petal and nearly jumped at the sight of her. Her lip curled and she raised her eyebrow, daring him to comment. He couldn’t look away. She wondered whether it was the glittery dress or the blonde wig.

“Wow,” he said in a gasp.

Perhaps it was the whole effect.

She was surprisingly affected by the compliment.

“We’ve got about half an hour until our ride arrives.”

Steve’s eyes hadn’t left her. But then he was looking down at himself, setting down his paintbrush.

“Um, you’re not going to a black tie thing are you? Because I don’t think I should stand next to you looking like this.”

Peggy smiled. “You look just fine to me. However…” She motioned him down the hall and into the guest room. “Perhaps a jacket could be of use.”

“You keep men’s clothing around in case of an emergency?”

“You’d be surprised what comes in handy,” she replied dryly. “It’s one the consequences of moving into a Stark residence that used to be for, well let’s just say, recreation. I haven’t quite purged the place of his things.” She rifled through the closet until she selected a few hangers. “Luckily, my less than impressive housekeeping, benefits us tonight.”

She handed him a stack to look through.

“Why don’t you try these on, and have a further look in the closet. Whatever fits will be just fine. I’ll be in the kitchen.”

Peggy closed the door behind her, trying not to think about broad-chested Steve squeezing into some of Jarvis’ and Howard’s old things. Instead, she put on the kettle, and grabbed some cheese out of the fridge for snacking.

Steve joined her minutes later, wearing a snug black jacket over his own t-shirt, his jeans now belted, and his work boots swapped for a pair of brown oxfords. He looked at her for approval. As if even old-fashioned shoes with jeans could make him look any less adorable.

“None of the pants fit,” he said apologetically.

I’ll bet they didn’t, thought Peggy before she could scold herself. Focus. Work. Be an adult.

“You look fine,” she said.

“So the outfit…” he said, gesturing to her dress and clearing his throat. “Part of the plan?”

Peggy nodded as she considered exactly what he needed to know, and how she could get away with telling him. She popped a few grapes into her mouth before passing some to Steve.

“It’s a retrieval job. And it needs to happen nice and quiet, with no red flags raised.”

“And this retrieval, involves sensitive materials?” he guessed.

“Very,” Peggy said. “The package was auctioned off earlier today. Now I’m going to pose as a rival interested party. If I can get them to give it so much the better. If not, I’ll turn to more persuasive methods.”

Steve pursed his lips. “And I take it, you’ve got your pistol all ready to go?” She only quirked her brow and smiled. “You don’t happen to have an extra piece do you?”

Peggy frowned. Of course she did. But she wondered if it was a good idea. She was suddenly reminded that this was a man who had just recently come home from war. A man who had suffered physically and mentally as all soldiers did.

“Steve,” Peggy started in a soft voice. “I don’t know that bringing you to an unsafe situation is such a good idea.”

Steve smiled politely. “I’m very well trained in all kinds of firearms,” he assured her.

“Yes, well, I admit that wasn’t at the top of my list of concerns.”

Something in his expression changed, but he only stood taller. “I don’t need a gun. I’m going with you.”

“But to go into an unknown situation. One that I can’t reassure you is necessary, or give you the details…”

“I trust you. And I don’t want to see you get hurt any further,” he said staring straight into her eyes. “That’s enough for me. And if I couldn’t handle this, I wouldn’t insist at the risk of putting you in more danger.”

He wasn’t wearing a uniform but Peggy could easily picture him in one. Helmet, boots, the works.

Peggy strode over to a cabinet in the living room and hit a switch that revealed one of her hidden safes. She punched in the code and her thumbprint and took out her backup piece, its magazine and her soft, leather shoulder holster. She handed them all over to Steve.

Immediately, he shed his jacket and adjusted he holster into place with quick fingers. She liked the way the strap had tightened his shirt around his muscles. With military precision he handled and assembled the gun before he holstered it, slipping the borrowed jacket all over it again.

“One more thing, and this is essential,” she said with emphasis. “Don’t aim that anywhere near the package.”

“Roger that.” He gave her a salute.

She grinned.

Before Jarvis could even attempt exiting the car, Peggy threw the door to the backseat open.

“Mr. Jarvis, this is Steve Rogers. He’s a friend and he’s playing backup for the night on a need to know basis,” she said without preamble, before either man asked too many questions.

Jarvis, bless him, never one to be daunted by strange circumstances or company, politely greeted him.

“Steve Rogers,” Steve said leaning forward, offering out his hand from his spot next to her.

“Delighted to make your acquaintance, sir. And how do you know Ms. Carter?”

“Oh, uh, I’m her, I mean… I’m a painter.”

Jarvis caught her eye in the rearview mirror. Peggy rolled her eyes.

“Not unlike yourself Jarvis, Steve here has forced my hand into being allowed to aid tonight’s cause.”

“Well Mr. Rogers, you must have been quite persuasive. Ms. Carter is not easily swayed.”

Peggy sighed.

“Well seeing as she could hardly walk, I couldn’t just let her go out on her own.”

Peggy groaned. She had hoped to avoid Jarvis hearing anything further regarding her morning’s injury.

“Couldn’t walk? Ms. Carter! Am I to hear that the injury you sustained this morning was more severe than you led me to believe?”

She glared at Steve. “I’m fine Jarvis. Steve’s had military level medical training and I am just fine,” she replied, still glaring fixedly at Steve who she was annoyed to find did not look sympathetic or apologetic in the least.

She knew it was childish to be irritated over having people care about her wellbeing but quite frankly it was overbearing, and wasted too much precious time.

“You can understand why he’s such a respectable butler to Howard Stark. He’s part loyal friend, part worrying mother,” she said sarcastically.

“Well, I appreciate you not describing as a nagging one then,” Jarvis replied.

She just might.

“You’re Stark’s butler?” Steve asked, before she could retort.

“Yes, indeed, sir.”

Luckily introductions and concerns over her leg fell by the wayside and they eased into the task at hand. Peggy reiterated to them both that they were backup and meant to do exactly as she said.

But as they turned a corner nearing the destination, Steve became distressed.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. This is mob territory.” Steve said with wide eyes.

“Yes, and?” Peggy said, well aware of the neighborhood’s attractions.

“So, these guys don’t mess around. When the Irish mob broke up into factions to avoid the Feds, they became more lethal than ever. Any sign of an enemy, they just dump them into the river.”

“I can handle them.”

“Peggy I’m telling you, you gotta go into this smart. Here’s what we’ll do. Instead of just your backup I’m going to play your bodyguard. Jarvis continues to be the chauffeur, no problem. They’ll be more receptive if you’re also Irish. You can be one of the many O’Brien crime family daughters looking to help daddy expand his failing enterprises. Can you fake an American accent? Actually, you can also just say nothing at all. Respectable mob daughter lets her hired help do the dirty work for her.”

Instead of being irritated at Steve taking over her mission, Peggy smiled. He made some good points and there’s something about him taking charge so readily. She couldn’t imagine he wasn’t one of those natural army leaders that soldiers flocked to work beside. It’s a solid plan. He even looked the part, with his impossibly large build, the blond hair and blue eyes enough to prove his heritage.

“Alright, you make a good case,” Peggy told him. “But the priority remains the same. If we can’t negotiate a buy, or steal it from under them, we take them out, quietly, nonlethal. The package we’re after will likely come in a white van by a third party. Keep your eyes on him. We also can’t let him get away. Mr. Jarvis you keep the car ready in case of a getaway. And once we secure all of the delivery, we drive it out of here. Understood?”

Both men agreed heartily.

“You’ll need a good solid Irish name,” Steve suggested. “How about Molly?”

“And what’s your alias?”

“Sean Michael, at your service. Can’t be much more from mother Ireland than that.”

They grinned at each other.

She told Jarvis to circle the scene while she pulled two small Stark-issued security cameras out of her bag.

“I want to be able to see these guys before they see us coming,” she told them.

“It’s definitely that street?” Steve asked. “Should get up high enough to hide them from view, but with a low angle so they don’t miss anything.”

It was exactly what she had just planned on saying.

“I’ll do it,” he said. “Between the second and third story, Peggy?”

She watched him slip out and easily scale the fire escape.

“Your friend is quite an accomplished climber,” Jarvis said in a voice Peggy recognized as not entirely forthright, and definitely not about Steve’s climbing.

“Yes, he’s quite skilled.” She was going to ignore all attempts at his needling.

“Are those last season Ferragamo Oxfords Mr. Rogers is sporting?” Peggy glared. “Well they are very becoming. Of course, he’s a very handsome gentleman. I can see why you’ve chosen to retain his services.”

“Please, please stop,” Peggy groaned. “And it’s not like that. Steve’s a good man.”

“A good man is hard to find,” Jarvis replied loftily.

“Jarvis!”

“My sincerest apologies Ms. Carter,” he said in exactly the tone that indicated the absolute opposite of sincerity.

“Don’t tell Howard.”

Peggy focused on her tablet, watching as the first of the two cameras flickered to life on the screen, as Steve easily hopped to street level and headed down the street. Once the second was in place, Peggy had Jarvis signal a thumbs-up to Steve. He jumped back into the car and Jarvis drove a good block away.

“And now we wait,” Mr. Jarvis said.

“Now we wait,” she echoed.

She was still very much focused on the camera feeds but acutely aware of how close Steve was sitting, leaning so he could study the screen.

Twenty minutes prior to the meeting, her earpiece buzzed to life as both her teams checked in, already in place and completed surveillance of their own.

“One and two, stay in position. The retrieval is the priority here. Don’t blow cover until I give you the go-ahead,” Peggy instructed them.

She noticed that Steve was very focused on checking out the street around them, eyes scanning up and down the street. Peggy loved his concentration, knowing it well from the hours he spent painting, and to see it as an ever present part of his personality was intriguing. But what struck her even more was how hard he was trying to give her privacy, to prove he wasn’t nosing into her business any more than she wanted. It was no wonder her instinct had been to let him come along.

The same white van with the dent of her bullet, pulled up with another car coming from the opposite direction, signaling with their lights. While the scene unfolded, the two parties slowly exiting their vehicles, Peggy sent pictures to SHIELD and her teams. Within a minute Stark’s facial recognition system identified the men from the dark car as low-level criminals, except for the man with the gelled back hair in the middle, as well known mobster Patrick Dolan.

“Dolan?” Steve exclaimed. “He’s a nasty piece of work. Word is he’s been recruiting. He got involved in some insane Triad deal that went south. And he’s always been one to dole out his own creative punishments on those that wrong him.”

Peggy raised her brow in surprise. “So he’s also fallen on hard times? Maybe we can use that information to our advantage.”

“Offer an alliance? He won’t go for it.”

“No, but he sure might want to try to fool us into one so he can stab us in the back.”

“Especially with you playing the naïve, desperate daughter of a down-on-his-luck fellow mobster.”

Peggy smiled as she nodded at him. “Exactly.”

They counted Dolan’s goons, waiting until the unidentifiable seller left his vehicle. Dolan had three guys, and a driver that remained in the car. They’d need to split that party up. They hatched the remaining pieces of the plan, and with a quick look at Steve who nodded in readiness, Peggy told Jarvis to pull the car up to the party.

Steve got out and was immediately met with guns cocked in his face.

“Take it easy,” Steve said in his best put-on offended Irish brogue, putting up his palms.

“And who the fuck are you supposed to be?” Dolan yelled, while Peggy’s attention remained on the unknown man from the white van.

“I’m representing an interested party looking to get in on something they didn’t get at the auction. And they would pay a lot to make it worth your while.”

“And what party has been sniffing around my business to dare interrupt a private sale.”

Steve, Peggy was proud to see, seemed stoic and unaffected by Dolan or his gun-brandishing buffoons.

“Let’s just say the O’Briens wouldn’t be opposed to working toward a common goal.”

Dolan grinned churlishly. “Would they now. Ain’t that sumthin’.” He turned his head over his shoulder to his thugs who lowered their weapons. “The thing is sonny, I paid well for my cargo. And it’d take a hell of a negotiation to convince me.”

Peggy, her teams supplied with faces and license plates, took her opening. She slid out of the car, bare leg first.

“I think we’ll have no problem coming to a happy arrangement,” Peggy said in her best American accent. Steve whipped his head around and she knew the well-performed accent caught him off guard.

“Molly, I told ya to stay in the car,” he recovered, well enough to impress her.

She scoffed as she flicked a long strand of blonde hair from her face. It was very effective on Dolan’s goons. And she reveled in the surprise on Dolan’s face.

“You work for me,” she directed at Steve in her most condescending voice. “And this is my deal to make. And I’d like to do it fast. I have plans you know. Places to be.” For effect, she checked her phone, and then inspected her red nails.

Dolan turned to his guys again, winking at them. Peggy grinned pleasantly back.

Good, feel comfortable, you wanker, she thought.

“I work for your father,” Steve replied coldly.

“Same thing,” she replied lazily.

“Come now boy, let the lovely lady speak,” Dolan said pleased with an apparent disagreement before him. “Come now doll, you wanted to talk business.”

She pretended not to hear the patronizing tone.

“Yes. You see father wouldn’t approve, but he just doesn’t see how much good this business deal could do us all. He’s hit a bit of bad luck lately and isn’t willing to take a risk. But I am.”

“And how will this make the both of us better off honey?”

“I get something I want, to help my father, and you get rewarded very… generously.”

“Dollface, if your father’s down on his luck, ain’t no way you can swing even as much as I paid.”

“Oh but I can.”

“Molly!” Steve said warningly, playing his part.

“How much are you asking?” Peggy continued, ignoring him.

Before Dolan could lean forward to tell her, Steve had stepped right between them, pressing his palm flat against Dolan’s chest. Peggy sighed dramatically. Once Steve had heard the whispered offer, he whispered it on to Peggy.

She smirked and looked straight at Dolan. “I’ll double that.”

Dolan sniggered. “Lady, you think I don’t know when someone’s try’na swindle me? Ain’t no way you got that money.”

She grinned wider. “Oh but I do. See there’s this tech billionaire daddy doesn’t approve of, he’s not Catholic, and not a drop of Irish blood. But he’d do anything to have me. And so we’re going to convince daddy just how well my fiancé can take care of his lovely daughter.” She gave her best love-struck sigh.

This made Dolan grin again. “I’m listening, dollface.”

“I can give you a sizeable down payment in cash now, and immediately wire over the rest to an account of your choosing,” Peggy said. “All secure. Like I said, tech billionaire.”

“You came prepared, sweetheart. I’m impressed.”

Peggy shot him a saccharine smile. “I always do.”

Dolan stuck out his hand and Peggy smirked as she returned it.

“See Sean? I can take care of myself,” she said cheerily to Steve who frowned.

Excellent, this was going just beautifully.

And as Peggy led Dolan toward the trunk of the car with one of his guys not far behind, the seller and the other goons stayed right behind Steve, only one with his gun at the ready.

“I do hope this means our families could help each other out from now on. It’s a different world. Always have to look over your shoulder,” she said cheerfully.

And then, just as she popped open the trunk, she heard the expected sound of Dolan reaching for his gun. Steve met Peggy’s eye and with an imperceptible nod they both turned on their men. Peggy slammed Dolan down against the trunk, just as Steve knocked a goon’s arm so hard his gun clattered to the ground. Dolan grabbed her on his way down just as the other goon rounded the car. Peggy slammed her leg into Dolan who stayed down. In a perfectly timed flash the passenger door slammed open and Mr. Jarvis knocked Dolan’s thug to the ground.

Two down, two to go.

“Nicely time, Jarvis,” she huffed, jumping over the fallen man just as the seller started for the white van. Steve was still fighting off Dolan's other two guys. Unfortunately, Dolan’s beefy looking driver had decided to join the fight, and Steve already had his hands full.

“Behind!” she shouted loud enough to startle the two thugs.

Steve landed a hard blow on the driver’s stomach, before throwing him to the ground. But as he rendered him unconscious, one of the thugs lunged at Steve. She cracked her gun at the back of his skull just in time for Steve to spin around to watch him fall, and go after the last of Dolan’s men. Peggy was free to deal with the seller and the cargo.

Incensed by her pursuit, the seller growled and charged directly toward her. She gave him a roundhouse kick as her purse smacked him across the face. Peggy pulled open the back doors of the van. And there they were, the same boxes, neatly loaded with vials made for destruction, just like that morning.

“Peggy, look out!” Steve yelled.

She twisted her head just in time to see the seller at her feet pull her to the ground, hard. She gasped at the contact of the rough ground beneath, and saw him train a gun at her. He was aiming too close to the truck, too close to her. Too close to causing a catastrophic explosion. With all her might she slammed herself into him, throwing them both clear of the van. And as she fell to her knees again, she realized he still had his gun in hand. Peggy looked up toward the barrel just as a crack whipped past her. The bullet had pierced the guy’s shoulder. He stumbled and dropped his gun to clutch his shoulder.

Steve ran to her, kicking the guy’s gun away.

“Nice shot,” she said admiringly, wincing with pain.

Steve was trying to help her up when Peggy spotted the seller writhing.

“Wait! I need him alive.”

Steve obeyed and ran over to check the shoulder wound. Peggy crawled over. And just as she did, she saw him smirk and cackle at her, his mouth wide.

“No!” she gasped, eliciting a surprised look from Steve, drawing his attention away from the guy he was clutching.

“Hail HYDRA,” he croaked just as he bit into his tooth. Not a second later he foamed at the mouth.

It took a moment for Steve to let go of the dead man. Peggy sighed as she stood, wobbling on her heels.

“Are they all out Jarvis?” she asked as he approached.

“Yes, Ms. Carter. I’ve even taken the liberty of administering a light sedative to ensure maximum time to wrap up the scene.”

“Great initiative Jarvis.”

Steve inhaled sharply.

“Oh dear.”

“Peggy… You’re bleeding.”

She could see blood oozing down her thigh. She withheld a curse. Both concerned men stepped forward, arms outstretched. Even before Steve’s hand reached her leg and shifted the skirt of her dress, she had a sinking suspicion of what he’d find.

“Shit. Peggy you ripped your stitches open.”

“Stitches?” Jarvis asked incredulously.

Peggy shifted away from Steve’s hand, wobbling and struggling to stay upright. She had to resort to resting half on Steve, half against the bumper of the van.

“Peggy, we need to take you to the hospital.”

“No! We’re not finished here. The van is the priority here. I need to take it in. Safely.” She bit her lip as she thought. “It’ll have to be driven. It’s the easiest way.”

“Peggy, no way are you driving in this state,” Steve said.

“Well you can’t do it. You don’t know where to go and I can’t have you any more involved in this.” She let out a whimper, turning away from the trickling blood.

Mr. Jarvis handed over his handkerchief. Steve took it and dragged it up the trail of blood from below her knee, before applying pressure on her re-opened wound. She gasped in pain.

“The van!” she urged through the pain.

“I will do it Ms. Carter, as long as Mr. Rogers here can assure that he will make it his priority to take care of you.”

“Fine,” she snapped waspishly.

“I’ll make sure she’s safe,” Steve promised.

Still desperate to see the mission through, Peggy made Steve limp her over with Jarvis, switching his hand over her wound with her own.

“Everything’s going to be okay Jarvis. I’m going to get you an escort,” she vowed, grabbing her phone to call Sousa directly as Steve held her tight against him. “Daniel. We’ve got the package. Jarvis is going to deliver it. I’ve got a bloody wound to get under control. I’m fine. Really. But I need you to meet Jarvis. Make sure we get this in safely.” With the phone call complete, head resting against Steve’s chest, she turned back to Jarvis. “I suppose I’ll have to present you with new handkerchiefs this Christmas.”

Mr. Jarvis smiled. “I look forward to that thoughtful gift.”

She returned the smile weakly.

“Mr. Rogers, it’s been a pleasure. I trust you to deliver her home in one piece.”

“Yes sir.”

“I’ll stay on the line with you Jarvis,” Peggy said.

Jarvis drove out of the street.

“Team two,” Peggy said into her earpiece, “I have a scene for you to clear. Please note the one deceased body is of a suspected HYDRA agent. Suicide by cyanide capsule.”

Steve arranged her carefully in the passenger seat before heading around and into the driver’s seat. She kept track of both teams, and put Jarvis on speakerphone.

“How’s it going Mr. Jarvis?”

“Splendidly, so far. Lovely there’s no traffic this time of night. Are you en route to the hospital?”

“No, no hospitals. The bleeding’s under control, I’ll be just fine.”

“Yes, you said so this morning and somehow ended up with stitches.”

Peggy gritted her teeth. “Do you see Daniel yet?”

“Not yet.”

“Peggy, I really should take you to a hospital,” Steve called out in concern.

“Make a left. We’re going to follow until Jarvis meets his escort,” she said ignoring him.

Steve sighed but followed her instructions.

“I’m surprised you can drive,” Peggy quipped trying to lighten the mood and change the subject simultaneously.

“Why? Cause I’m a Brooklyn kid? I learned in the army. Had to drive tanks, Humvees, and trucks all across the desert. Actually makes angry New York drivers not so terrifying in comparison,” Steve said. “What about you? You drive? Or just on the wrong side of the road?”

She let out an indignant “ha!” just in time for another stabbing pain. “I can drive,” she assured.

“She’s quite prone to excessive speeding,” Jarvis chimed in.

“No one asked for any defamatory commentary on my driving, thank you very much.”

Steve snorted.

“Carter?” she heard in her ear. “I’ve got Jarvis in my sights.”

“Great. Jarvis, Daniel’s almost there.”

“Ah, yes. I see him now.”

Over the speakerphone she heard commotion.

“Carter, we’re on the move,” Daniel said. Peggy sighed in relief. “Jarvis said you’re going get your leg fixed up. Make sure you get home and get some rest. These guys will keep until morning.”

“Alright Daniel. Thank you. Let me know when the package is delivered.”

Peggy clicked off her phone and slunk further into her seat, a hand covering her eyes. A moment later she yanked the wig off her head. She caught Steve glancing at her every few seconds.

“What?”

“Nothing. Just, I think I like you better with your real hair. Not that you don’t make a pretty blonde. Because you do! You’re beautiful!” He kept his eyes trained fixedly forward after his outburst.

Peggy’s face broke out into a grin. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he said in a scratchy voice, only making the compliment sweeter.

Peggy checked with her teams one last time before throwing the earpiece into her purse. Minutes later, Sousa called and gave the all clear. She sighed in relief. Success.

“You sure I can’t take you to a medical professional?”

She stared at Steve with his disheveled hair and serious eyes, and shook her head. “Home, Steve. I’m exhausted.”