Is the FWNL drugstore bit when Steve has to get the correct condoms/ones that fit him?? I'd pay good money to read that.
Yep. That is exactly what it is. I had a whole plan about how the drugstore has these magazine covers with Steve’s face on them and he is internally sweating over being clocked in a small college town buying condoms. But I’ve barely written more than a few lines of that, alas!
What I do have written is the part where he comes back to Peggy’s apartment:
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Using Peggy’s key, Steve lets himself into the building, taking the stairs two at a time.
Peggy is curled up on the couch, a thick textbook in her lap. She has on a different, more comfortable-looking outfit—not that she’s any less of a knockout in jeans and a sweatshirt. (He grins to himself, recalling her comment about not needing a certain item of clothing again that weekend.)
Leaning against the doorframe, he lets it hit him, full-force: how utterly, hopelessly in love he is with this girl.
She marks her page, closes the book, and smiles at him. The warm light from the lamp brings out the golden undertones in her skin.
“Hello, darling,” she says, carelessly, as though they’ve been together every day for years. She tilts her cheek towards him, clearly expecting a kiss.
You wouldn’t think Peggy Carter could get any more confident, but she has. Since he first got here—since this morning, even. No more snarky comments about waitresses trying to sit in his lap; she’s ready to claim his affections as her due.
Whether or not she’s ready to say the words herself, she must have needed to hear them from him.
He drops the plastic bag on the coffee table and leans down to kiss her, properly. As he kneels over her, the couch creaks ominously under his weight, but she holds him in place by the back of his neck. From there it really heats up, the taste of her lipstick and the sharpness of her nails evoking vivid memories of the night before.
It had been painfully difficult to turn her down, even without the full knowledge of what he was missing. Now, he suspects, it would be damn near impossible.
Peggy kisses like she does everything else: with utter, unassailable conviction. Steve takes it all and gives it right back to her, with interest, pressing her into the cushions, not bothering to disguise how badly he wants her.
For all his talk about taking things slow, he’s about two seconds away from undressing her right here on the couch.
“I had a lovely time today, Steve,” she prompted, stepping forward until her toes bumped the caps of his shoes.
He was nodding, a determined set to his square jaw.
“Thank you so much for suggesting it,” she continued, in what she hoped was an encouraging tone.
“I’d like to kiss you now,” he told her earnestly. His “May I?” overlapped with her “Yes, please,” and then he was smiling even as he leaned down.
Their first kiss had been a frantic push, a last-ditch effort to tell him everything she had never been able to put into words. This, now, was Steve’s response: a gentle brush of his lips against hers, a squeeze of her trembling fingers. He kissed her once, softly and slowly; and then again, a quick peck that served to punctuate the statement.
It wasn’t quite the passionate embrace she’d been dreaming about—but then, there was time for that.
This one was inspired by an inbox prompt that is now, sadly, very old - someone wanted to hear more about the aftermath of the Big Showdown between Peggy and [redacted for spoilers] from Steve’s POV, so I started this snippet. Spoilers below!
Steve wakes to the jolt of being loaded into a SHIELD medi-van.
Natasha is there, her shoulder bandaged, her arm in a makeshift sling. “I’m fine,” she tells him, before he can ask. “No casualties.”
Steve nods, unable to get the words out. His throat is ragged, and his mouth tastes like he’s been chewing gravel.
“We took James alive.” Natasha folds herself into a corner, making room for the medics to climb in. “Carter got him,” she murmurs.
“What—?” Steve has a flash of memory: Peggy’s face, dirt-streaked, close to his. Don’t you dare leave me again. “How?” Peggy was a civilian, and she’d known Bucky before—she shouldn’t have been anywhere near this mess.
As usual, Natasha seems to know exactly what he’s thinking. “She figured out where to find you. We had to let her come along.” Her face softens. “She’s even more of a pain in the ass than you are, Rogers.”
I've always wondered, in FWNL, how Steve and Peggy part when she leaves to go to school, and what Steve thinks of Peggy forging a new path in a new world. Any insight you might have?
So I know that you sent this ask approximately a billion years ago, but here’s the thing: I liked this prompt a little too much.
Because in FWNL, Steve and Peggy leave things on an uncertain note when she leaves for school - in part because of everything that’s going on in Steve’s world that he can’t talk about.
But I couldn’t stop thinking of how they might have said goodbye, if things had been a little different. So here’s what I came up with, which is basically an AU of an AU.
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The Nearness of You
The night before she’s due to leave, Steve takes Peggy to a free movie night, at a park in his neighbourhood.
He knows a lot of people would give him low marks for being cheap and unoriginal, but the only person he wants to impress doesn’t seem to mind.
He meets her at the subway station, because she wants to try navigating on her own.
Right on time, she ascends the stairs, elegant, unhurried. Her simple wrap dress is the green of summer grass, with a pattern of sunny yellow flowers; her shoes and her handbag are the same glossy red as her lipstick. It’s a combination of colours that shouldn’t work, but on Peggy, it’s perfect.
When he asks if she had any trouble with the train, she arches an eyebrow and reminds him, “I used to live in Brooklyn, you know.”
And it’s true that she walks with the air of someone who belongs there. But then, she’s like that everywhere she goes—in stark contrast to Steve, who couldn’t blend in with a crowd if his life depended on it.
On the way over, they pass an ice cream shop that Steve has seen mentioned online. It’s supposed to be good, and the line inside is short; on a whim, he suggests a detour.
The place happens to be next door to a donut shop, and the two have conspired to make donut ice cream sandwiches.
Something Steve has always admired about Peggy is her enthusiasm for eating. Since her return, he’s been making mental lists of foods in the new century that he wants to introduce her to. A donut ice cream sandwich hasn’t been on his radar, until just this moment.
He watches Peggy spend almost a full minute ogling them in the freezer case before concluding, with a profoundly sad sigh, “I don’t think I could manage it.” It’s the same wistful look she used to have during the war, when talking about meat and milk and real chocolate, not the chalky clay tile issued by the army.
“Let’s split one,” he offers. “You pick.”
After further and even more intense deliberation, she selects a decadent red velvet cake donut, with a cream cheese ice cream centre.
They decide not to risk eating outside; the sun is going down, but the evening is still sultry, and neither of them are in the mood to race the clock. They find a table by the window.
Steve is so busy watching Peggy smooth the softening edges of the treat with her tongue that he lets his half melt down his arm all the way to his elbow.
He blows through their entire supply of napkins trying to wipe off the sticky mess.
He thinks she’s amused; it’s still a little hard to tell sometimes, but he’s gradually remembering how to read her face.
“Aw.” He frowns comically. “Now no one’s gonna want to hold my hand.”
He means to be cute and flirty, but he can tell by the way her expression changes that he’s caught her off guard, maybe embarrassed her a little.
Changing the subject quickly, he asks, “Are you all packed for your big trip?”
“Yes. It’s remarkably easy, when you don’t own anything. Which reminds me, I ought to give you back your books.”
“That’s okay. You hang onto them.”
She doesn’t look pleased. He thinks he knows why: she doesn’t like owing a debt.
“You might need some of them for school. I’ll get ‘em back the next time you’re in town,” he adds.
“All right.” She takes a bite of the ice cream sandwich and it falls apart in her hand, half of it dropping straight down the front of her dress. “Oh, hell.”
Steve goes to get more napkins.
“There’s really no dignified way to do this,” she observes, one hand delving into her décolletage. He catches an eyeful of milky skin and ivory lace before it occurs to him to look out the window instead of staring like a caveman.
“I like your dress,” he says, because things weren’t awkward enough already.
Peggy grins. “Now that I’ve drawn attention to its best feature?”
He grins back, but says only, “Green’s a nice colour on you.”
“Thank you.” She dabs delicately at her neckline. “I rather think so too.”
Another thing he’s always admired about Peggy: her way of accepting compliments by agreeing with them. As if she arrived at the same conclusion ages ago, and has just been waiting for everyone else to finally catch up.
*
When they get to the park, he sees couples unfolding colourful blankets or matching beach chairs, pulling out bags of snacks and bottles of water. He wishes he’d planned a little better. He has to settle for spreading his windbreaker on the ground so Peggy won’t get her dress dirty. There isn’t enough room on it for two of them, but that’s fine; after such a hot day, it’s nice to lean back on his elbows and stretch out in the cool grass.
The movie is an animated feature about the secret lives of toys. It seems good—people in the audience are laughing—but he’s completely lost. He spends all his time either gazing at Peggy, or looking blankly ahead with a keen awareness of her body beside his.
The sky above them fades into shadow.
He doesn’t realize he’s dozing off until Peggy gasps. He startles awake just in time to catch her face in profile, lit up, staring raptly at the screen. His heart feels weightless, suspended in his chest.
She turns, as if sensing his gaze. “Are you laughing at me?”
He tries, and fails, to wipe the dopey smile off his face. “No, ma’am.”
She fake-glares at him, nudging his knee with her elbow before turning back to the movie.
The next time he wakes, it’s because she’s shaking his shoulder gently.
He sits up, slightly groggy. The film’s end credits are rolling. People are packing up, chairs in hand, sleepy children on their shoulders.
He can’t believe he fell asleep in the middle of a date. He’s lucky she didn’t just go home and leave him there.
He rubs his face briskly, trying to wake himself up. “Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize.” Her eyes and her mouth have gone very soft. “You must have needed a rest.”
There’s so much he wants to tell her, in that moment. But all he can do is nod. “How’d you like the movie?”
She smiles, cheeks dimpling. “Brilliant.”
He helps her to her feet, then scoops up his jacket. He’s about to put it on when she stops him with a hand on his arm.
“Hold still.” She bats at his back. “You look as though you’ve been rolling in the grass.”
“Sounds like fun.”
“It does.” Her hand slows, softens. “Under the right circumstances.”
Steve can’t think of anything appropriate to say to that.
They make their way to the edge of the park, walking slower than usual.
Her hand brushes his. He thinks it might be an accident, at first. The second time she does it, he takes hold of her fingers—loosely, giving her plenty of ease to slip away.
She steps closer, presses her palm firmly against his.
They hold hands all the way to the entrance to the subway, where Peggy lets go to fish her fare card out of her handbag.
He offers to see her back to SHIELD.
“Don’t be ridiculous.” She’s clearly pleased. “It’s got to be out of your way.”
The truth is, his place is a five-minute walk from where they’re now standing. “Maybe a little,” he concedes.
“You can ride along until I have to transfer.”
“Deal.”
On the train, they sit shoulder to shoulder—at Steve’s size, it’s impossible not to. After a couple of stops, he drapes his arm over the back of Peggy’s seat. It’s mostly to give her more room, though of course that’s not the only reason. If it’s not okay, he’s sure she’ll let him know.
One more stop passes.
“We should do this again,” he suggests. “When you’re back in town.”
“I’ve no idea when that will be.”
“That’s okay. It’ll keep.”
He’s not sure exactly what it refers to, but Peggy nods, as though what he’s just said makes perfect sense.
And then she leans into his side, and they make the rest of the trip that way, quietly together.
In the station, the silence between them turns awkward. It’s a lousy place to say goodnight: it’s crowded, the air is humid and stale, and there’s a busking saxophonist whose enthusiasm far outstrips his technique.
Steve settles for a cavalier, “Text me when you get home, yeah?”
She gives a dramatic, full-body sigh. “Must I?”
He chuckles. “I don’t need a whole message. Just proof of life. An emoji is fine.”
“Is that the… smiley face thing?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“I’ll give it a go. But I won’t promise anything.”
As her train screeches its approach, he hugs her, one arm across her shoulders. She slides a hand around his waist, presses her face to his collarbone; her breath, through his shirt, is warm on his skin. Her hair is raw silk, and smells like springtime. His eyes are closed. He thinks hers are, too.
He doesn’t realize how long they’ve been holding one another until she pulls away, murmuring, “I’ll miss the train.”
Steve is afraid of what’s going to come out of his mouth if he opens it. So he just smiles, squeezes her hand once more, and lets her go.
After seeing her off, he takes the steps up to the street two at a time, and walks the eight miles home at a brisk clip. His heart is soaring.
It won’t be easy to be apart, of course—but unlike during the war, there’s a timeframe, and an understanding between them. It’s easier to stay in touch. And it’s not like she’ll be on the other side of the world; she might even invite him to visit her, once she’s settled.
Her text arrives about an hour after he gets home. It consists solely and entirely of the letter S.
He waits, for several minutes, watching the typing indicator fade in and out of view. At last, the full message pops up: Safe and sound.
Get some rest, he writes back. Big day tomorrow.
He’s already put his phone back on the nightstand when it whistles again. No words—just a sleepy snoring face emoji.
To Steve, it feels like nothing short of a miracle.
Ransom's sweater look is exactly how I picture Steve's sweater look in the bar scene from FWNL. You predictive genius.
Oh my gosh, friend, me too! 😊 I couldn’t believe it when I saw it on screen. If I had any gif making skill, I’d find a way to make a gifset of Steve and Peggy’s date in the faux English pub.
It just occurred to me that Flames-Verse Peggy would have been there for the Snap. How does that go, in your mind? Does she survive? If so, how does it impact her relationship with Steve, and the rest of the Avengers? What role does Peggy play in the Infinity War saga? If she's snapped, what happens upon her return? I'm so curious about this now.
I’ll be honest with you: this ask blew my mind. I’ve been thinking about it since last night and I feel like I’ve just barely scratched the surface. Here are my random, disorganized thoughts:
Flames-verse is an AU for the main MCU after 2012. CATWS never happens, HYDRA-in-SHIELD never happens, Steve never goes on the run, etc, etc.
But assuming that Thanos eventually does his thing:
In 2018, Peggy and Steve have been together for years. They live together, they are both happily working for SHIELD.
Bucky has recovered somewhat from his conditioning. He’s been moved to the same long-term care ward where Peggy woke up in FWNL.
Peggy doesn’t get snapped, but Clint, her partner in the field, does. He turns to dust in the middle of an op in a remote location. Peggy has to get her bearings and get home. She can’t get hold of Steve, or anyone else. It isn’t until she makes it back to New York that she finds out who survived the snap and who didn’t. She and Steve have an emotional reunion (he had no idea if she survived either).
I picture Peggy taking Clint’s role in the Time Heist. She’s the one sent back in time to be sure that a non-enhanced human body can stand the strain.
Also, I picture Steve and Peggy being the ones to go to Vormir, just because of what an emotional kick in the teeth that would be all around. But I have no idea how that would play out, because I don’t want to kill either of them, and I especially don’t want to recreate the whole “beautiful death of a strong female character” schtick for yet a third time.
That’s as far as I got, but please rest assured that some version of me is always thinking about this forever until the end of time.
"Flames We Never Lit" is a goddamn masterpiece. Full stop. It's some of the best writing -- fic or otherwise -- I've had the pleasure to read in some years. Thank you for making a six-hour flight -- where I finished the second half of the story, after devouring the first half the previous day whilst packing luggage -- so much more palatable. And if Peggy's story continues in some way on Disney+, you should be the first writer Marvel calls ;) Best wishes to you always!
This was a lovely message to get. I’m so glad it made the long flight a little easier! All the best to you too 😊
