plotted starter for @lovereflected
When the door knocked Peggy huffed, having just reached home from the office, she wasn’t particularly pleased that now her quiet evening was being interrupted. She wondered if it was Angie again, wanting some entertainment for the evening. While Peggy was fine to host her for the evening, she prefered not to, because the day had been long and dragged on and all Peggy wanted to do was get in, get settled, have some food and try her best to destress in the bath. “One moment!” Peggy called out as she got up from the kitchen barstool. The cup of tea was in her hand still, taking a sip as she moved the key in the door and opened it.
Then her world went still, the china falling from her hands as she took in the sight before her. Her hand went to her thigh for a moment, and the garter and holster Ana had made her sitting there with a fully loaded gun. Not that she was fearful, but this… him, he was unexpected. It was almost like a reflex at this point, to make sure she kept herself safe.
The heels of her shoes shuffled back slowly, wordlessly watching him as her mind reeled taking him in, stature, eyes, the smell of him, for a moment it's like nothing had changed and Peggy is transported to the war and she was confused looking at him, but she knows Steve when she sees Steve. He’s older. Even with the serum, she can still make that observation. The lines around his eyes and mouth give it away. Still as perfect as ever. A little more refined is all. She can’t quite make out his expression, but she notes he’s somewhere between relieved and tired. Like he had gone through hell to get here. Peggy swallowed.
The radio in the background filled the room because they were silent. Watching each other like the two of them were, examining each other, feeling each other out as if to determine the best way to break the ice. Peggy usually had a lot to say, being a product of her career made her yearn to say something, she debated whether she should be more cautious.
Part of her doesn't want to.
Part of her doesn’t care. There's a stinging in her eyes, and a burning sensation that rises in her throat and she knows she’s about to cry. She felt embarrassed by the fact too. It doesn’t surprise her because the anniversary of him going down is coming up and she had been feeling particularly weepy at the mere mention of his name, let alone him now standing in her home. It wasn’t until he was fully inside and kicked the door to close it a little that Peggy stopped moving, and moved her hand away from her thigh. If this was a sick joke, some mind game or otherwise she had determined at that moment that she was more than happy for that to be her fate if she got a few more moments with him.
They had lost enough time.
But the fact is he’s not said anything and is being respectful and patient with her.
She knows the man she loves.
She does move closer, crashing against him, burying her head into his chest and breathing him in. The stinging in her eyes spilt over as her fingers gripped the fabric of his clothes, so tight that the pads of her fingers hurt, turning white. She didn’t care though, so fearful that if she let go, he would go too. “I’ve reached insanity haven’t I?” Peggy half-joked, she was generally curious that she had, or that maybe she had died and gone to heaven. That her mind is playing the world's worst prank on her. A cruel prank if anything, one she was willing to give into, if even for one evening. “Are you real?” She sniffled. The moment was perfectly timed with the next song that came on the radio, a song dedicated to lovers returning from war and Peggy smiled. “Am I dreaming?”
