Just seen you are open to fic prompts, so in relation to my message the other day, how about Steve returning the stones to 1970s and bumping into peggy who absolutely knows what hes doing as shes been living with steve since the 50s??
You got it! (Disclaimer: I have not put much thought into how this would be possible, in the interests of Good Times and Soft Emotions.)
The Tesseract is the trickiest of all the stones to return, which is why Steve tells himself he’s leaving it until last. In addition to avoiding his past self, he also has to avoid Tony, and Howard, and…
And anyone else who might potentially remember the face that graced a hundred thousand war bonds posters.
He waits until late at night, and poses as a custodian, complete with coveralls, mop, and bucket. No one looks twice at the janitor. (He’d like to think he’s getting better at this whole low profile thing.)
He deliberately avoids going down the hallway where Peggy’s office is.
The picture of his old self on her desk was a revelation he still hasn’t quite processed. But it doesn’t change the fact that she’s married to someone else. He knows Peggy well enough that she would never settle. If she’s found that kind of happiness, the last thing he’d ever want to do is trouble the waters.
He manages to get the cube back in its vault with minimal fuss, and is just about to activate his quantum suit when a voice behind him says, “Steve?”
It feels like he’s moving in slow motion as he turns, white-hot panic drilling down his spine.
She’s wearing a tan overcoat over a navy dress with white trim, hands in her pockets. Her hair is shorter, with a few strands of silver at the temples–but she still wears her signature red lipstick, and he can tell, even from here, that her perfume is the same.
“Oh.” It’s all he can say at first, and then: “Shit.”
She chuckles, and he’s fascinated by the new smile lines around her eyes, her mouth. He hopes it means that she laughs often, and hard.
“Hello,” she says, warmly. She doesn’t look surprised to see him.
She holds up a hand for silence, and gets it.
“I know you’ve travelled a very long way to be here,” she tells him. “And I know you can’t stay. But I wanted to see you.”
Steve wonders whether he’s having some kind of break with reality. Quantum psychosis. He looks at her helplessly.
She steps into his orbit, offers him her hand.
And honestly, that’s enough, to be able to hold her hand the way he should have when he had the chance. But instead of reaching for it, he gathers her up and crushes her to his chest, tucking his face against her shoulder.
She’s warm in his arms, warm and solid and alive, and for just a moment, that’s enough too.
Her collar is damp against his cheek. “Sorry,” he says, his voice hoarse.
“Oh, my darling,” she murmurs, stroking the back of his neck consolingly. “I know it’s hard to believe just now, but it really will be all right.”