i wrote all these in like half an hour and i didn't proofread, so i apologize for any mistakes! i just kind of went with what my mind spit out, lmao. stevespeggy is partially to blame.
~~~
The night life in New York in 2012 wasn’t much different than that in 1945, Steve realizes.
Pubs and clubs alike pulse music and lights that make the inner city streets vibrant and alive. Even at quarter to two in the morning, the crowds inside were bustling with energy.
It’s not quite raining, but drizzling, and Steve walks with his hands shoved in his pockets and his head downcast.
Ever since his third night in this strange new time, tossing and turning and not having slept a wink, he’s been taking these late night strolls to help clear his head.
Tonight, though, that doesn’t seem to be working.
As he glances into one of the club windows, a flash of red catches his eye, and a few brunette curls.
His chest immediately constricts as he remembers Peggy wearing the same shade of red, their conversation about dancing and right partners coming back and hitting him like a freight train. He thinks of how he wanted nothing more than to sweep her onto the floor and dance with her right then and there.
But he didn’t.
And now he never will.
They never did get that dance.
He allows himself the briefest moment of weakness to imagine if he had landed the plane safely and met Peggy at the Stork Club like they planned. Perhaps they would have danced until quarter to two in the morning. Perhaps they would have kissed. Perhaps they would have seen the war end, and maybe even have gotten married.
A little girl with his eyes and Peggy’s curls pops into his mind, and Peggy’s hand finds his, and he smiles softly.
He is torn out of his fantasy by the squeak of brakes on asphalt and the splash of water on his shoes.
There is no hand in his.
“You comin’? We’re on a schedule,” shouts the bus driver down to Steve.
He glances back, and sees a couple through the window of the club, twirling around and smiling. Turns back around and boards the bus resignedly.
And he grows angry with himself. He normally refuses to imagine the what ifs, because this is what happens.
Because now, he’s been frozen in ice for 70 years, and Peggy Carter has lived her life.
~~~
Peggy finds herself taking walks through Central Park every day, enjoying the way a brisk walk clears her head.
Today, she is stopped by a blonde little boy who can’t be more than five, sniffling and crying and tugging on her sleeve.
“Ma’am?” he asks in a soft, scared voice that tugs at her heartstrings. “Please, can you help me? I can’t find my mommy and daddy.”
“Of course,” Peggy nods, crouching down so that she is eye level with the boy. “Where did you see them last?”
So she spends a good portion of her afternoon hand in hand with this little boy, searching for his parents and listening as he tells her how his father had been a soldier in the war and how he was finally home with them, and how his mother was smiling so much more lately, and how wonderful that kite was in the sky, how he wished he had a kite like that, as he didn’t right now, but he did have a new bicycle that he could make go really really fast.
Suddenly the boy’s eyes light up and he yells for his parents, letting go of Peggy and dashing over to a bench near the front of the park, where his worried parents are sitting and talking to a police officer.
The father is tall and has blonde hair to match the little boy’s, while the mother wears a pantsuit, her brown hair hanging in loose curls. They embrace their child, enveloping him in their arms.
Peggy feels a pang in her chest watching them.
Images flash before her, impossible scenarios of her and Steve with an overexcited five year old, taking their son for a day in the park and living a life together.
This little family resembles so much of what she wants but can never have, because Steve is gone.
She turns away abruptly, and before the relieved parents can thank her, she walks quickly away, telling herself that the tears forming in her eyes are from the relief of reuniting a family.
~~~
Steve may be gone, but he still manages to invade her thoughts even when she’s purposely trying not to think of him.
It’s the little things. A cup of coffee made just the way he would take it. Riding in a cab to work with no one beside her. Someone says something to her that is just so /Steve/ that she has to smile.
Or it’s the big things. Old Captain America propaganda posters just barely hanging on in street corners. And the fact that Steve’s disappearance and presumed death is always in the bloody newspaper.
She cracks on the night she stupidly decides to walk past the Stork Club.
It isn’t her usual route home from her job. Her feet apparently have decided to move on their own accord. If she’s honest, she’s feeling a bit nostalgic after a particularly bad day at the office, and she hasn’t been down this way since...well.
The big glass window in the front emits bright light and gives her a clear view inside. A couple twirls by, the woman laughing loudly as her partner dips her.
She feels like she’s been hit across the stomach and she bolts, trying not to remember her and Steve’s last conversation and failing.
They never got their dance.
Or a chance together, for that matter.
She opens her apartment door and Steve’s picture looks back at her from her vanity mirror. That’s when she breaks.
