#Steggy fic

[steggyfanevents]

For Peggy Week, we're looking for your Peggy-centric fic recs! Share them on this post!

Can't decide? Tell us about the first fic starring Peggy that you ever read — or the latest one you just couldn't put down!

And check out #steggymonth at @steggyfanevents to join the celebration throughout April!

[3pirouette]

I will eventually clean this up and post to AO3, but I’m bordering on being late for work because of this ficlet.

I think we all need this right now.

Fic: Tomorrow starts the work. (1/1) Steggy

You can see this as either a part of my Dissents Speak or Seven if we’re lucky Universes…

~*~

It was a devastating blow.

Sitting, watching the results come in.

Watching each state turn red.

“Red Mirage, blue wave,” Steve muttered to himself as he paced between phone calls and texts, over and over for hours on end, managing the flow of information between Peggy and the outside world.

“It’s not coming,” she finally conceded, holding back tears.

“It’s still-“

“No,” she finally interrupted him, sniffing back her emotion. “No. It’s not coming.” Peggy stood, pulling at her shirt and reaching for her jacket. “I’ll have to meet with everyone, put together a speech.”

”I don’t understand how,” he said softly, looking between her and the screen, devastated and forlorn and confused. “We worked so hard, we told the truth, we showed everyone what the difference was…”

”And they weren’t ready,” Peggy said softly, sadly, as she reached for him, entwining her fingers in his. “So may people are, but not enough understood what was at stake.”

”What… what do we do?” He stammered, clutching her hand tight.

She looks at the TV, muted, with the prediction blaring in bold letters across the banner at the bottom: they’ve lost. It’s undeniable. “We try to sleep. We concede gracefully.”

Peggy smiles at him, reaching up and letting her hand run over his cheek. “You never even considered the possibility, did you, darling?”

Steve shakes his head. “I don’t understand how…”

She sighs, full of love for the man before her, his optimism and his passion, and for the loss they’ve both now suffered. For the loss so many have suffered.

“Neither do I,” she reminds him gently, “but I need you to.” She can only smile at his quizzical look. “Tonight we can be sad, but tomorrow starts the work. This was an election, not a sentencing. Nothing is written in stone. For every policy, for every bill, for every ideaology he puts forward, we need to be there, ready to fight for what we know everyone deserves.”

He shakes his head, astounded at her strength. “I’m just- I’m so fucking tired, Peg…”

”Aren’t we all, darling?” She can’t keep the bone deep weariness out of her voice. “But we carry on, because that’s what we do. We carry on, because someone needs to fight, to educate, to do. The more we do, the more others will, too. If we stand still, if we get bogged down by this defeat, nothing will change. We will create that destiny for ourselves. Tomorrow is still unknown, and I’m going to do damn well everything in my power to make sure it isn’t the outcome I’m afraid of.”

He pulls her into his arms, holding her tightly. “You’re right.”

She laughs, even if a tear does escape her eyes. “Of course I’m right, darling.”

”Tomorrow starts the work,” he affirms, stepping back and running his thumb over her cheek, wiping away her single errant tear.

She smiles up at him, tinged with fear and loss, but full of the hope she never gives up on, “Tomorrow starts the work.”

[pegs-carter]

STEGGY WEEK 2024 @steggyfanevents

day six — WIPs and updates

sneak peek of the first chapter of my WIP, The Second Time Around.

tags Established Relationship, Angst, Fluff, Smut, Post-Avengers: Endgame, Alternate Timeline, Time Travel, Chief Peggy Carter, Howling Commandos, Emotional Hurt/Comfort,  POV Peggy Carter, Period-Typical Homophobia, Period-Typical Sexism, Period-Typical Racism, will add tags

Peggy wasn’t transferred to LA, in the end. She actually had started working as Chief of the DC office four months ago.

She took over from the previous one, Chief Kevin Kelly, after an early retirement due to a cardiac arrest he barely survived. Phillips pulled all the strings for that to happen, masking her name as M. Carter in all the paperwork to deceive the higher-ups.

It wasn’t a difficult task in the end as of all four US SSR offices, the national headquarters had the worst performance. Meanwhile, New York had the best, and to no wonder considering it had Peggy Carter among their men until recently. Emphasis on men, as Peggy was still the only female operative in the whole agency.

Despite her being great to the NY office, the NY office wasn’t great to Peggy in her final days there. Following Jack’s assassination attempt, Chief Flynn took over and it was like she got back to square one when it came to her job prospects.

Worse than square one, perhaps. Chief Dooley, for all his flaws, was somewhat protective of her. In a very condescending way, yes, mostly due to his respect for Captain Rogers, but protective regardless. Eventually, he started to respect Peggy because of her own merit. Then he died.

Jack Thompson, her second SSR boss, was… Jack Thompson. In all that name meant, whatever it meant. She wasn’t sure to this day, years after knowing the man. It never felt like he was her Chief, it felt more like Dooley took the day off and had Jack temporarily take his place like he used to when he was alive.

Thompson never treated her as a subordinate, either. It was more like a big brother who relished his momentary authority over his little sister as their parents were out of town, something she experienced for the first time in her life. Jack was no Michael, that was for sure.

She liked him better than Flynn, still. Her last boss simply thought she was stupid, which is something Dooley or Thompson never even considered. He made sure she was useless in the office, almost out of spite. Combining his treatment of her with her engagement with Daniel, Peggy couldn’t wait to be transferred to LA.

She had no idea she wouldn’t end up in New York or Los Angeles, but rather in Washington instead. As a Chief instead of an Agent, no less.

The transition wasn’t easy. The translation, neither. The D.C. men didn’t take well to having to respond to a female Chief and moving was always stressful. Nothing would beat the hassle of moving countries, but in the span of a year, Peggy lived in three different places in three different cities.

No matter how inconvenient it was to move once again, living alone in her own house made it worth it. No rules like in the Griffith and no need to depend on other people like when she lived in a Stark residence.

Technically, she still did in that last regard as the house was actually Howard’s. She was leasing it from him, but only technically, as Peggy made sure that her rent would amount to the price of the house after a period of time.

Howard was unhappy about this but yielded. Granted, she was quite certain that he lied about the cost; if depended on him, she wouldn’t pay a dime. Howard was like that when it came to gifts, he would buy you a house like it was nothing. And it was, for him. It really was.

Besides her modest house, he owned a mansion as he was living in DC as well. If you would ask him, he would say he was bored of NY and LA and wanted fresh new air. A lie.

The truth was, he was working with Peggy and Phillips to create the SSR’s successor. It was a complete secret and the rest of the staff was unaware their agency was in its last days.

It was time; the war was over. War was different, too. It wasn’t a fight between soldiers anymore, now it was between spies. With rumours that the Soviets were close to making their own Bomb, the necessity of a new agency suited for modern times was greater than ever.

However, while the government had no plans to continue the SSR, it didn’t have intentions of developing a replacement for it either. That was entirely Phillip’s idea and he recruited Howard and Peggy for it to come to fruition. He would take advantage of the SSR’s timely death and repurpose its corpse: adopt its orphaned agents, retake its abandoned structures, and continue its interrupted missions.

For that, Phillips would use his military connections and his new ranking of General. Peggy would take care of the spy-craft and Howard would be responsible for the technology and the financing. Mostly, though, Howard Stark and his Stark Industries were a leverage card in diplomatic relationships.

Leverage was needed because, unlike the SSR which was just a governmental collaboration between the USA and the UK, the new agency would be international and semi-private. Countries that joined in would have the incentive of access to cheaper and exclusive Stark technology, something irresistible in the ongoing Cold War.

There was a long way to go until that, granted. For now, Peggy would train to be one of the heads of a spy agency by being Chief of an SSR office. That was why Phillips was so determined to help Peggy with her promotion in the first place, having that position in her resume was a way of selling the idea of a female Director.

It was really a tough sell. Not because Peggy in particular wasn’t up to the task, but rather because men already have a hard time considering women their peers, let alone their superiors. The agents in her office would say so, plus a few jokes behind her back.

She had heard them all. Betty Carver. Serving under the Captain. Red, white, and blue love bruises. Raising his American Flag. The list went on.

At first, everybody hated her except Agent Kermit Kelly, Chief Kelly's younger son, and she suspected his obvious crush on her played a part in that. With time and her professionalism — not her personality —, the men started accepting her more and more. Far from enough, better than nothing.

Things got way better and somehow way worse when Dugan and Jones moved there. The Howling Commandos were disbanded and its five remaining members were relocated: Dugan to DC, Sawyer to Houston, Falsworth and Pinkerton to London. And Jones…

Gabe moved to DC, but not because of the SSR. He decided to join civilian life alongside Morita, another Washington resident, and start a doctorate at his Alma Mater Howard University right there in the city.

Things got better because, after a long time, she would be among friends that were fighters. As much as she loved Angie, the Jarvises, and Howard, there were some things in her life they couldn’t even grasp. She missed that type of connection, that understanding.

Things got worse because she had yet another man, Dugan, ‘under her sheets’. According to the bullpen, she had slept with Captain America — true, but it was none of their business —, Phillips — so she could get the job —, Howard — for money — and the Commandos.

All of them. During the war and after.

And Timothy… He didn’t help. He was all heart, all little restraint. Every comment about Peggy got under his skin, which didn’t help the affair allegations. He even punched the worst wanker in the office, Kelly’s other son, after he had enough of him, which was actually very little. Peggy had to punish Dugan because of that.

Nevertheless, she would be lying if she didn’t appreciate the gesture.

It’s not like she could punch Agent Kenneth Kelly herself being his superior, no matter how much she wanted to. One of the downsides of being Chief, bummer.

She liked where her life was at, at the end of the day, regardless of all those nuisances and obstacles. She had her own house, she was her own boss, and she was forging her own path, all by herself.

On her own.

Alone.

[behindthelabels]

Wrapped in Red Chapter Seven

In the aftermath of the revelation Peggy and Steve try to move on.

For @steggyfanevents Steggy Week Day Three: AUs and crossovers

After two weeks of sulking about Steve, Peggy goes back on Tinder. This was never supposed to happen, she was supposed to get laid, nothing else.

No one really interests her, but she’s determined to put it all out of her mind with some good old-fashioned sex. She got herself into that mess trying to sate her carnal needs. She can only hope that finally sating them will make her stop thinking about Steve.

Sitting on her couch after work, she swipes as she waits for Natasha to swing by for dinner. No one satisfies her. She is able to find something wrong with all of them, and after a slew of nos she tells herself she has to pick one of the next ten.

The universe is smiting her because the first three are holding fish in one of their pictures. This is New York City, for Christ's sake, where are they finding these fish?

Continue on AO3

[beautifulwhensarcastic]

Favorite Steggy Fic Quotes   [part 1]

Can’t Have It Both Ways

Flames We Never Lit

The SSR Supply Closet Crisis

Coffee Talk

And The Sun Hits Ground

You Can’t Take The Sky From Me

[ao3feed-steggy]

The Mask Beside Her

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/IA2oYHC by Princess_of_Words “I should have told her,” he continued. “Told who?” Peggy asked, stomach clenching. The more he talked about dying, the more real the possibility seemed. “We had a date,” he said. “Been friends for months—I finally worked up the courage to ask. Should have told her about this at the same time.” In a world where superheroes keep their identities secret even from each other, Peggy has a surprising revelation about Captain America. Written for Steggy Week 2024 Day 1: Tropes and Genres Words: 816, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Series: Part 1 of Steggy Week 2024 Fandoms: Captain America (Movies), What If...? (Cartoon 2021), Marvel Cinematic Universe Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Categories: F/M Characters: Peggy Carter, Steve Rogers Relationships: Peggy Carter/Steve Rogers Additional Tags: Super Soldier Peggy Carter, Captain America Steve Rogers, Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Secret Identity, Identity Reveal, POV Peggy Carter, Non-graphic injuries, steggy week 2024, Salt and Light read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/IA2oYHC

[theawkwardterrier]

Academic Antagonism, Scholastic Strife

Steggy Week 2k23, day 3 Prompt: AUs and crossovers

Summary: The history department at Shield University includes a pair of professors with a particular level of collegiate conflict.

Thanks to @steggyfanevents for hosting!

It is, essentially, a matter of course every September.

Angie has been the history department administrator for long enough that she can sense the approaching storm in the air. She breaks into the apology gift card she got last semester to buy herself the biggest, fanciest coffee from her favorite campus café and sets her jaw as she arrives at her desk.

The first student is at the doors to the building the moment they open for business hours.

"I need to speak to someone." There goes the bag, plunking down on her desk (actually clean for once! She'd made an effort to get rid of her host of reminder post-its before the start of the new school year, and now look) as a hand reaches in to yank out a paper schedule as some kind of evidentiary prop. "Look, I was placed in—"

Angie looks over the boy, playing the sort of instinctive guessing game that at least offers a tiny bit of entertainment to the whole process. Unfortunately, he has a copy of Steve's latest book sticking out of the bag, which takes most of the fun out of it (although he does have a copy of The Fountainhead there too which, if it's not class reading, either Steve or Peggy would have fun with). Sighing, Angie goes through her dutiful patter nevertheless: "Both Professor Carter and Professor Rogers currently have entirely full rosters for all of their lectures and seminars. Which session would you like to be placed on the waitlist for?"

“I’ve got to get into Professor Rogers’ Tuesday/Thursday afternoon section — his take on urban history is completely—”

“I wouldn’t sleep on Professor Carter,” says a passing man. “Stick with her and she'll teach you something.”

Angie purses her lips at the back of the man's blond head as he exits the building and then resigns herself to listening to a very earnest undergraduate trying to convince her that his entire future depends on getting a seat in Steve’s Metropolitics of Race and Place course.

Even non-majors will often make their chosen class a priority to arrange their schedule around, simply based on the reputations of Professors Rogers and Carter, and, all told, more than a few people will get shuffled around, trading into the course that they want. Whether it will be before Angie goes through both her café gift card and her bottle of Advil is anyone's guess.

“—and if you don't think that the prevalence of racialized propaganda was unique and endemic to the period, and of course led into its use in the Second World War, I simply don't know what to say to you."

"I'm not saying that it wasn't a part of it, but it only seems unique if you remove the context of—"

"Oh, bloody Nora, do not start listing nineteenth century European conflicts to me again, Steven."

"Well, Peg, it's hard not to when you're trying your hardest to ignore a key piece to the entire issue. And while we’re at it, to suggest that World War I propaganda was the key pathway to reliance on cultural stereotypes that had already been spreading around Europe for centuries before and that the Nazis only—"

There aren't all that many people standing around on the first floor of the College of Arts and Sciences building on a Thursday afternoon, but those who happen to have scheduled themselves a late class or are meeting friends to start their weekends early stop and watch the bickering pair striding down the hallway.

"I had Professor Rogers last semester,” says one student to the rest, watching the two turn the corner. “Life-changing.”

“There is no way he’s better than Professor Carter,” says one of the others. “If I hadn’t already been too far along with all this double major crap, her class would have made me switch to history.”

“Yeah, but the thing is, do you think they’re…you know…doing it?” one of the crasser members of the group as they all turn to leave the building. “The way they were arguing, there were definite sparks there.”

“No way,” someone snorts. “They argue like that all the time. Everyone knows that they hate each other. Half the history majors are Jets and Sharks over them — Team Carter versus Team Rogers.”

“I know who I’d join,” says Steve’s former student immediately, and Peggy’s agrees, glaring, but most of the rest seem to be of the opinion that they couldn’t be paid to care this much about school and since they’re the ones who are, in fact, paying, there are more interesting things to talk about.

The newly minted members of Teams Rogers and Carter glance at each other, for once in agreement — the others simply have to experience it themselves to understand.

The campus pub, a cozily dark, wood-paneled little establishment that leans perhaps a little too much into academic cliché, usually hosts events a few times a week: comedy, music, trivia. The new manager, however, wants to mix it up (and perhaps take advantage of that stereotypical appearance). Few of her colleagues think that anyone will turn up for a debate between two history department professors, but they’re bolstered anyway by the usual uptick in stressed-student patronage as the semester gets closer to its end, so at least it doesn’t seem like it will hurt.

Even a half hour before it’s supposed to start, the place is nearly at capacity. As the professors take their places behind the lecterns borrowed for the occasion, people are having to be turned away at the door for fear of violating the fire code. By the time the manager declares a tie, Professor Rogers is pink-cheeked, Professor Carter is starting each of her statements with a tight, “If my esteemed colleague would recall…” and as a couple passes outside they turn to each other and wonder what sporting event could be going on inside to be inspiring so much passion.

You’d think that things would quiet down a bit around finals time but that isn’t the case. With the new courses for next year announced and selection already under way, there is a second round of haggling and complaints about unfairness and bribery attempts to get into the desired sections. Leaving for the afternoon even as she sees the students still lining up and hears them trying to make their cases directly to the professors themselves — “I understand that you’d like to continue with my spring course, Nicole, but I think that you might in fact find the perspective enlightening” — Angie feels like she still hasn’t entirely caught her breath from the first round months ago.

She demands double the gift cards, or she’s transfering to the sociology department, where the faculty hasn’t done anything noteworthy in about a hundred years and no one has ever decided to become even the least bit fanatical about any of them.

Finals are over, and snow blankets the empty campus. Vacation has taken over the minds of the students, even as they wait for their grades to come in.

“I’ll trade you for the dumplings,” Peggy says from where she is leaning against the arm of the sofa while Steve faces her from the opposite end. Their feet tangle in the middle.

“Sure, do you have the pad thai there?” They lean forward to exchange cartons, kissing briefly before they relax back to their respective sides.

Peggy swallows and says, “Since we’ve both managed to finish with our grading, I thought we might go skating tomorrow.”

“You just want to see me fall again,” Steve complains, smiling.

She makes a little humming sound, that impish curl at the edge of her mouth — bare for once, since it’s only the two of them relaxing at home. “Perhaps, but you did know about that bit of sadism when you married me.”

“Well, as long as you help me back up.”

“You know that I’ll always kiss it better, my darling.”

A couple of students, still in town due to canceled flights, spot them walking hand in hand to the rink the next afternoon, skates over their shoulders. Theories range from some kind of hostage situation to a social experiment, enforced faculty bonding to mutual amnesia. After all, what else could be believed?

[somewhereapart]

i could give you 50 reasons (why i should be the one you choose) (Ch 4/50)

For @steggyfanevents #saturdaystorkclub

The other men draw pictures, too. Caricatures and lewd cartoons, etched onto napkins and passed from hand to surreptitious hand. Someone—she doesn’t know who, because not a single one of them is willing to confess to it—had begun a series of drawings of her. Some of them are stern and hulking. Broad-shouldered and sour-faced, with captions that make her sound like a veritable ball-buster.

Those are the ones she prefers.

The others have her uniform too-tight and too-short (when it isn’t missing pieces altogether), her bosom even more generous than it already is and her bottom almost comically round. The captions on those had made her cheeks flush with fury and her heart race in her chest, although she’d done her level best to act as though they didn’t bother her one bit.

She’d rather they think of her as a shrew than a whore, or better yet—not think of her much at all outside the parameters of her job—but the very last thing she wants them to think of her as is an easy mark. Easily riled, and prone to histrionics.

After one particularly lascivious cartoon is confiscated—this one has her in garters and a brassiere and not much else—Colonel Phillips lines up every single man in contention for Project Rebirth for a dressing down. She hadn’t wanted him to—had insisted that making a fuss over it all would only make things worse—but Phillips wouldn’t hear of it. So she stands there next to him as he barks at a row of men about vulgarity, and common decency, and the foolishness of boys, and respect for those who outrank them. As he vows to discover the perpetrator and send him packing, a mission she’s fairly certain is doomed to fail.

Still, the threat has enough weight to have some of the men shifting on their feet.

Someone even pipes up, finally, bold enough to suggest, “The only one around here who knows what to do with an art pencil is Rogers, sir.”

(Continue on Ao3)

[thesokovianaccords]

(press you to) the pages of my heart

four: "come here. let me fix it."

a steggy friends to lovers au (also on ao3)

They were going to be late. Even for them.

(Though Steve would swear up and down it wasn’t his fault. Peggy would swear that he was lying.)

“It’s basically the same costume, anyway. How are you still not ready?”

“I had to send Tony an angry voice note first,” Steve shouted from his bedroom. “Really, it’s his fault we’ll be late.”

Peggy tapped their new and improved badges against the kitchen table. “Pepper’s a natural redhead. It makes more sense for them to be Mulder and Scully. Also, I somehow managed to make new badges, find realistic neuralyzers, and fix my costume before you tied your tie.”

“Well, I got into an in-depth debate with both of them over who deserved a quote-unquote ‘couple’s costume.’ That ate up some time.” Steve walked out into the living room, his eye roll audible across the apartment. “They both had lots of unsolicited opinions, so you’re welcome for sparing you from that.”

“My hero,” Peggy scoffed, grabbing their drinks and dropping next to Steve on the sofa, as he tied his shoes. “Hopefully the party will still be going when we get there.”

Steve sent her an incredulous look, and they both laughed. “Yes, right, fine. It was impossible to even think that with a straight face.”

“Sometimes I still feel hungover from their 4th of July party.”

“Ah yes, the Steve Rogers Birthday Bash, T-M,” Peggy said, holding up her hands in brackets to showcase the trademark with the aplomb it deserved. And because he always glared at her when she did it.

“Yeah, yeah, hilarious. So funny. I’m dying of laughter.” Steve pushed himself to his feet and pulled Peggy up to hers too. “Are you ready, Agent P?”

“What are you saying, Agent S? Don’t I pass muster?”

He gave her a once-over so quick she might have been insulted, if the warm weight of his gaze hadn’t pinned her in place for those few seconds. Her breath caught for an embarrassing moment as his eyes returned to hers. “You look beautiful. And deadly. Perfect, as always—except your tie is crooked.”

“It is not.” Peggy had no idea whether that was true—Steve’s compliments had thrown her for a loop, and recalibrating herself to focus on what he was actually saying was taking longer than it normally did.

He set their glasses on the coffee table and pulled her to their entryway. “Would I lie to you?”

“Yes,” she retorted, but unfortunately her tie was, in fact, listing to one side. “I swear I had it sorted—it must have gotten bored waiting for you to be ready too and decided to relax.”

Steve snorted as she loosened the knot and began to loop the fabric over itself again, but no retort came. He just watched her hands in the mirror as she pulled the long end of the tie through and tightened the knot. But once again, it hung slightly off to the side, and she groaned at her reflection. “These things are bloody impossible. I don’t know how you wear them every day.”

“It just means I have a lot of practice. Come here,” he said, dropping his hands to her shoulders and spinning her around. “Let me fix it.”

Peggy considered the possibility, with Steve’s knuckles brushing against her neck as he re-knotted her black tie, that she was dreaming. Or that she had taken complete leave of her senses. She and Steve were so often in sync—and naturally so, without any conscious thought behind it—that when they weren’t, when they seemed to be in the midst of wildly diverging experiences of the same event, Peggy felt unmoored. Speechless, even. How else could she explain Steve’s efficiency, his apparent immoveabiity, while she was left breathless at the sweep of his hands across her collar? And how was she meant to deal with this new reality, the one where she and her best friend were horribly, perhaps permanently, out of sync, and one wrong word or move could tear everything down?

Steve, oblivious to Peggy’s personal crisis, stepped back and placed his hands on her shoulders again. “There,” he said, a soft smile on his face. “Perfect. As always.”

Peggy placed a hand over the knot and cleared her throat. “As are you, Steve,” she said, relieved her voice stayed steady. “Now, let’s go save the universe. With tequila shots, preferably.”

He laughed and ran his hands down her arms, before taking a single step back. “Yes, ma’am.”

[lilydreaming13]

Why do you describe Daniel Sousa as the asshole ex-boyfriend in some steggy fanfiction? That's totally a wrong description of Sousa. Ok, that many fanfiction's are AUs, but that's too much of an OOC writing of the character. You can say he's Peggy's ex without saying he's an asshole or an idiot. Sometimes it seems like you're describing Jack Thompson rather than Daniel Sousa

[charmills]

fic: to my right

Title: to my right

Author: charmills (astraeus)

Rating: General

Pairing: Steve Rogers/Peggy Carter

Word Count: 3,602

Summary:

"He is an escape, he’s come to realize in his months on tour. Not Steve— Captain America and his star spangled girls, an opportunity for people to experience some emotion other than fear and reality."

-- Peggy and Steve enjoy an escape during his USO tour.

written for steggy week 2023: missing scenes and favorite moments.

LINK ON AO3

[steggyfanevents]

For Steve Week, we're looking for your Steve-centric fic recs! Share them on this post!

Can't decide? Tell us about the first fic starring Steve that you ever read — or the latest one you just couldn't put down!

And check out #steggymonth at @steggyfanevents to join the celebration throughout April!

[3pirouette]

Fic: Winter's Children (1/1) (Part of the Nobody's Baby Universe)

Title: Winter’s Children

By: TriplePirouette/3Pirouette

Disclaimer: They're not mine.

Distribution: Read HERE on AO3 Anyone else please ask first :) 

Part SEVEN of the Nobody's Baby Universe (Click for all stories)

Story Summary: Mandy’s parentage is finally revealed. A story set over 3 decades, with a glimpse into the SHIELD legacy of the Rogers family. 

Posted for Steggy Week 2024, Day 3, AU’s and Crossovers, because the Nobody’s Babu Universe is my personal favorite AU I’ve ever written for them. 

A/N: So, the science in here is gonna sound a little more 90’s criminal drama than late 70’s… but we’re just going to pretend SHIELD was that far ahead, ok? Ok. 

~*~

August 1955

The knock on the front door startled Steve, enough that his grip slipped and James’ foot kicked out, landing square in his dirty diaper and smearing the contents across the changing table. He groaned, and wrestled the one-year-old for control. “Mandy!” he called, “Can you see who is at the door?” He heard the patter of her feet run past the nursery and bound down the stairs as he tried to hold his son down and grab a cloth to clean him at the same time, the boy giggling away. The afterthought hit him quickly, “Don’t open it!”

He was on edge. He’d slept alone last night: Peggy was on a stakeout that was important enough to keep her hands twisting and her eye twitching all week. He felt nothing but dread at the sound of the door, but had little choice but to continue to try to fight his small son for control and rid him of his dirty diaper. 

Mandy let out a happy squeal. “It’s Uncle Jarvis and Aunt Ana!” He heard her jump close to the stairs. “I can see that it’s just them from the front window. Can I let them in?”

Steve sighed. Even if he wanted her to wait, he was in no shape to go down there himself. Surely, at ten, she was old enough to know friends from strangers. James had managed to make a mess of the both of them, and he could sorely use another pair of hands. “Yes, please.”

He listened carefully to the happy greetings as he pulled another cloth from the changing table, shaking his head. “How did you do this, James? It’s everywhere!” The boy cooed at him, and Steve could only smile, despite the sinking feeling. 

“Hello?” Jarvis called, his footfalls up the stairs soft and quiet. 

“In the nursery!” Steve called back. It took only seconds for Jarvis to pop his head into the room. “You’re right on time, I’m in dire need of reinforcements.”

The butler’s eyes bulged wide. “Yes, quite so.” Without another word, Jarvis stepped in, grabbing a towel from the closet in the hall and wetting it, handing it to Steve. “How in the world did the young master manage that?”

Steve shook his head, wiping the smeared excrement from James’ legs. “I’m guessing it’s some combination of the strained peas and yogurt.” Steve got him clean enough for the moment, and hastily diapered him. “Definitely a bath tonight.” James giggled as Steve tucked him into a new romper. “Can you…” Steve pointed at the boy then back at his own filth covered arms. 

“Oh, yes,” Jarvis nodded quickly and lifted James from the table, holding him as Steve took the wet towel and cleaned his own arms as well before tossing it aside with the diaper that needed to be cleaned. “Peg’s gonna kill me. Keeps saying I forgot how to change a diaper.”

Steve’s stomach dropped a bit at the way Jarvis’s face fell. His heart skipped a beat and he felt like his lungs were squeezed tight. “What happened?”

Jarvis sighed, ushering Steve to the bathroom and watching as he soaped up and down his arms in the sink. “I’m afraid Mrs. Rogers is quite stubborn.” Jarvis only tilted his head at the look of fake incredulity Steve shots him. “She got into quite the tussle last night, but declined any sort of interventions, despite the fact that three of her team are still in the hospital as we speak. 

Steve’s head perked up. “Hospital?”

Jarvis held up a hand. “She fared much better, I’m happy to report. She’s at the mansion now, resting.” Steve pushed past the man, leaving him calling down the hall after him. “Despite protests, Ana and I felt it best you go see her. We’ll mind the children.”

He paused only to change his shirt, shove his boots on his feet, and drop a kiss on each of his children’s heads before he was racing out of the garage on his motorcycle. 

The fifteen-minute drive felt like hours. He was seething in anger and scared as hell by the time he skidded to a stop at the front door. He marched up the stairs, ready to bang on the door, and quickly stumbled past it into the foyer when it was opened before he could even touch it. 

He caught himself before he fell, hands on his knees. “I suppose I should thank them,” Peggy’s soft voice rang out, “but they did go behind my back.”

He stood and turned to her, his face falling when he saw the swelling that held one eye shut and the purple bruising around it. “Peg…”

Peggy ducked under his hand when he went to reach for her. “No, Steve. I don’t want to hear it. I’m fine.”

His mouth formed a tight line, his hands on his hips and the ire that had fled from him when he stumbled into the house rose back up. “Fine? You could have broken bones!” He took a deep breath and followed her when she closed the door and moved into one of the lounges. “Hell, you could have had brain damage.”

“You and I both know that with enough time I’ll be just fine.” She flopped onto a couch and reached out to the side table behind her, pulling a bag of ice back up over her bruise. 

“Whatever you picked up from James is going away. You have to be more—”

“It was him,” she interrupted with a whisper. “The Winter Soldier.”

Her words halted the start of the familiar fight they’d been having and he sank down on the couch next to her. “You’re sure?”

“Metal arm and all,” she sighed out, moving the ice over her eye. “It’s how I got this. Stopped Thompson from getting two to the head, but caught his backhand.”

Steve sighed, lifting her feet into his lap and started running his hand over her shin. “That’s why you were so…”

“I suspected,” she answered the question he hadn’t asked. “I thought perhaps it would be him. I didn’t expect us to get so close, though.”

His head fell, his words soft. “I’m going with you next time.”

She sat up, ice falling to her lap, her own tone leaving no room for argument. “We’ve had this fight already, Steve. You or me. Never both.” She took a deep breath, the eye that wasn’t swollen shut clouding over, “I won’t risk those children living without the both of us, you hear me? Not after what I saw last night.”

“You’re right, you’re right,” he quickly mumbled, picking up the ice from her lap. “I just hate seeing you like this. Feeling helpless.” He held it up to her eye, waiting until she took it before moving his hand away. “I guess I’m not adjusting as quickly as I’d like.”

“To what?” she laughed lightly. “You went from being a super soldier, thwarting death at every turn, to a house husband that occasionally goes on missions while I galivant around the world as head of a secret intelligence agency.” She chuckled, the ice sloshing in the bag with her movement. “Sounds like it could be a real prime time smash comedy, eh?” She reached out for his hand and sighed happily when he took it, growing more serious. “I think it’s harder than either of us thought to make this happen. Especially now with James. Neither of us went back into the field until years after we got Mandy. This is all new, we may have to reassess.” 

Steve nodded, but didn’t speak. After a long stretch of quiet he couldn’t hold the question inside. “What about the Winter Soldier?”

“He did some damage, that’s for sure.” She shook her head, the ice rattling in the bag, “All of us together there were six bullet wounds, a handful of broken ribs, a broken leg, and one ghastly eye. And he got his target, so we failed there.” She shook her head, pulling the ice off before sitting up. “It’s been three years since we’ve had a lead. He’s back in the wind for who knows how long.”

Steve let his hand ghost over her purpled jaw. “Did you see his face?”

She shook her head and leaned into his touch, wincing but pressing into his hand, anyway. “He wears some kind of mask, covers almost all of his face.” She chucked sadly. “I think I’ll need one of those.”

Steve shook his head, letting his thumb run over the darkest of the bruises under her eye. “You should have gone to the hospital.”

“And what?” Peggy leaned back, letting his hand fall to her shoulder. “How was I supposed to explain how quickly I was healing to them?” She pulled the ice back over her eye, a shiver running through her. “No, best to stay here, avoid scaring the children for a day or so.”

Steve’s lip quirked up. “You think the Jarvis’ would mind looking after the kids if I stayed a while?”

“Mind?” Peggy blew threw her teeth, then winced when the movement sent a shock up the side of her jaw. “Mr. Jarvis is so completely done with my antics that he stopped talking to me, and Ana hasn’t stopped talking to me about James since I arrived. I think that they’ll be disappointed if you don’t stay.” 

Steve hummed happily, leaning over and pressing a kiss to Peggy’s hairline. “Well, then I’ll just have to stay for a bit.”

He held her for a long, quiet moment, the only sound in the large mansion the ticking of the grandfather clock in the hall and the tinkling of the ice shifting with each breath Peggy took. 

“I know… I know you can’t promise me anything,” Steve whispered, raking his fingers through her hair, “but just say you’ll try, ok?”

Her voice was soft, sensing the seriousness of his words. “Try what, my darling?”

“Try to be careful?” He asked, his voice breaking just slightly. “Try to stay safe. Try to come back.” 

Peggy dropped the bag of ice, shifting in his arms to straddle his lap. She cradled his cheeks in her hands, eyes taking in the bags under his eyes, the tight strain at their corners, the way the muscles in his jaw twitched, all full of stress and fear. “The day…” She paused, took a deep breath, and started again, letting the emotion fuel her but not stop her, “The day I don’t come back to you or our children is the day that God himself has stopped me.” She caressed his cheek gently. “Nothing short of that would ever keep me away from you.”

Steve couldn’t keep the tears from forming in his eyes. “I know, Peg, but these people… the Winter Soldier…” He sighed, pressing his cheek against her good one, “The Devil works hard, Peg.”

She pressed a gentle kiss to the edge of his jaw by her lips. “Yes, my love, but I work harder.”

~*~

July 1971

The humid summer air of New Jersey gave Peggy migraines. Had she been able to stay in the SHIELD bunker, like she’d planned for the day, her temple wouldn’t be pounding, but she’d been required to be up on the surface a handful of times, and bouncing between hot and humid and the naturally chilly underground, she was nearly seeing double.  

She slammed the file she was reading shut, looking up and finding Rose already opening the door. “Blissful, just the woman I wanted to see.” Peggy closed her eyes and sighed, the promise of home all the nearer. “I’m taking an early day, can you call a car for me?”

Rose, who was usually worried beyond measure that something was wrong or happy that Peggy was taking time for herself, was uncharacteristically neither. Instead, her eyes wrinkled and her mouth pinched shut. “I’m sorry, Director Carter, but I think you need to stay just a little bit longer today.”

Peggy ground her teeth tight, knowing Rose wouldn’t even utter those words unless she was sure it was something that needed her attention. “Please tell me it isn’t another ‘diplomatic misunderstanding’ between Howard and some female dignitary?”

Rose shook her head sharply, “No, but Doctor Mills would like to see you. He says it’s urgent.”

Peggy cleared her desk and nodded. “Very well, send him in.”

Franklin Mills was their top research and development scientist, and the only one of their team, aside from Howard and Pym, who had nearly top-level clearance. The man was quiet and reserved and never, ever, came up to Peggy’s office himself unless it was of the direst importance. 

He slipped in quietly past Rose once she waved him in, his bald head glinting in the light as he looked at the floor. He was nervous, and that made Peggy worry. “Franklin, to what do I owe the pleasure?” She tried to keep her tone light as she folded her hands on her desk, but the man was nearly trembling before her. 

“D-Director Carter,” he very rarely stuttered, and it sent Peggy’s heart pounding. “We’ve been working on extracting the DNA from the sample our team discovered at the attempted UN assassination.” 

Peggy nodded, waiting as calmly as she could. It was a thwarted assassination attempt. The target, a dignitary from Germany, managed with only a punctured lung and was expected to recover fairly well. The assassin slipped through their fingers, leaving only a dime sized spot of blood and one agent in intensive care. 

There were whispers that it was him: the Winter Soldier. 

Publicly, she told her agents to focus on the concrete evidence and stop whispering rumors. Privately, she knew first hand that experiments to enhance soldiers hadn’t died with Erskine. Not only was Mandy proof, they’d raided three abandoned Red Room facilities after the war that remained classified. 

The Winter Soldier: a man who had more speed, strength, and agility than any other save her husband, was a very real possibility, and she and Steve were determined to stop him. 

She tried to smile to calm the man, but couldn’t. “I’m well aware. Have you found something?”

He slid a small handful of papers over to her. “I haven’t- These are the initial print outs. Nothing’s been saved and no one else has seen them, I swear.”

Peggy looked at the graphs, the numbers and words making little sense. She looked up, laying her hands on the pages. “Franklin, you know very well I have no idea what I’m looking at.”

He swallowed, hard. “We were able to get a viable sample, and we ran it through our database. I didn’t expect anything, because we don’t have a lot of people in there yet but…” 

“But?” She was getting impatient now. 

“The Wint—" he stopped himself and restarted, “The assassin and your daughter are a familial match. I ran them twice.” He threw up his hands, ranting quickly. “It- it doesn’t match Captain Rogers, either, I’m afraid to say. The assassin… or your daughter.”

Peggy’s hands spayed out over the data as she took a shaky breath. Mills was still stuttering before her and she stopped him by holding up her hand. “Sit, Franklin.”

She opened her mouth, looking the poor man in the eyes, then closed it again. She almost laughed at the absurdity of it all: the man thought he’d lose his job, or worse, for thinking he’d discovered that she’d been unfaithful. Mandy was an agent with SHIELD, had barely been in the organization long enough to be known all that well except it was well known that she was Peggy and Steve’s daughter. It had been a double-edged sword for the girl from day one, but she’d slowly and surely been proving herself to those around her. 

It was the only reason Mandy’s DNA was in their ever-growing database. 

She looked back up at him, face as plain as she could make it. “Remind me of your clearance level, Doctor Mills.”

He didn’t stutter, and she was proud of him for that. “One B, Ma’am.”

She nodded. “What I’m about to divulge is considered top level classified information, do you understand?”

“Yes, Ma’am,” he nodded swiftly. 

“If I hear anything about this, I will know it was you who let it out and I will see you prosecuted as per SHIELD’s regulations regarding classified information, is that clear?”

The man swallowed thickly, “Yes.”

She sighed, pulling open her drawer and taking out a small gilded double frame. She held it out to him. “Agent Rogers, Mandy… my daughter,” she tripped over her tongue a few times, the pounding in her skull and the pounding of her heart making it hard to focus, “was adopted. Captain Rogers and I, along with the Howling Commandos, found her in a HYDRA science base.”

The man’s eyes widened as she slid over the frame, opening it to reveal two of their earliest family pictures. The one on the left of the frame had been a picture Morita had gifted them with the first time he made it back from the front. He’d snapped it when they hadn’t been looking mere hours after they’d gotten back to the base. Peggy was holding a still tiny and unnamed Mandy tight in her arms, Steve, shield on his back, was standing across from them, and both were looking down at the baby in what could only be described as frightened wonder. The second had been posed, a picture Howard snapped the day the three of them moved into their house with Steve holding Mandy and with an arm around Peggy, standing on the front steps. Mills looked up then back to the pictures. 

“It’s not quite as scandalous as you may have imagined, but I’m sure you can see why we don’t discuss it often.” Peggy pulled the pictures back and snapped the case shut, sliding it back in her desk drawer. “Mandy’s parentage has always been unknown to us, though we’ve had our suspicions along the way.”

“Is she…?” He didn’t finish, the question had slipped out and he covered his mouth with his hand. 

She didn’t answer, but leaned forward, instead. “As your director, I’m asking you to keep this ‘eyes only’ and off the record. As your friend, I’m asking you to understand why.”

Mills nodded, still looking slightly confused and upset. He always was a bit squirrely about working for an agency that dealt in espionage. He expected to be told to do unethical things at every corner, and was always spoiling for a fight that wasn’t there. Sometimes, Peggy thought he didn’t realize that he was working for the good guys.  

“Franklin,” Peggy sighed, pressing her fingers to the bridge of her nose, “I’m not asking you to destroy anything or hide anything. Keep the samples in there. Just, don’t tell anyone about the match, yes?” 

Somewhat placated, the man nodded and stood. He reached out and shuffled his papers back into his hands. Peggy thought about keeping them for a moment, but knew Howard could pull up the information if she needed it, and Mills would feel much better if he left with it. 

He slipped out the door, and she put her head in her hands. 

She’d barely had time for a breath before the door opened again. “Your car is topside whenever you’re ready,” Rose whispered. 

Peggy looked up, focus swimming at moving her head too quickly. “You are a godsend, Rose.” Peggy stood slowly, grabbing her purse and briefcase before moving towards the door. “What am I going to do when that shoulder of yours heals and you’re back out in the field?” 

Rose rolled her shoulder carefully, wincing lightly as they moved through the bull pen to the elevators. “It’ll be a few more weeks yet, I think. That bullet did a number on me. But by then I’ll have found you a good replacement, and then I’ll be back out there babysitting the boys.”

Peggy laughed then drew in a quick breath at the sharp pain it had sent moving though her skull. 

Rose waved off whatever reply Peggy had started, ushering her into the elevator. 

Rose was already on the phone before the elevator hit the surface.

~*~

Steve met her at the door with a shot of whisky and two pain relievers, handing them over and taking her briefcase and purse as she entered the house. 

Peggy swallowed the pills dry then chased them with the whisky, gulping it all down in one shot. “Rose?” she asked, voice coarse from the liquid burning its way down the back of her throat. 

“Yup,” he nodded, closing the door behind her and dropping her bags on the side table. He dropped a kiss on her forehead and wrapped his arms around her as she melted against him. “She said you didn’t look too good.”

Peggy let herself snuggle into his embrace, eyes closing as he took the whisky tumbler from her and set it on the table beside them. “Look, feel… take your pick. It was a beastly day.”

He hummed and kissed her hair. “What can I do?”

“Migraine first, international espionage second,” she mumbled. 

“Migraine?” he sighed, shifting and lifting her from her feet and carrying her up the stairs. “I wouldn’t have led with whisky.” 

“Swhy I didn’t tell ya,” she slurred, more from exhaustion taking over than any effect the alcohol had on her, leaning against him. She felt drained, having fought to get through most of the day and she could feel how little energy there was left to give. Steve set her gently on their bed, then moved around the room, lowering the shades to block out the evening sun. 

She kicked her shoes off and slipped out of her jacket, tossing it over the side of the bed as Steve slipped out. He came back just in time to watch her pull her bra out through the arm hole of her tank top, his eyebrows raised as he held out the glass of water to her. “Nobody but us here, Peg.” He sat on the edge of the bed and handed her the glass, waiting until she drank the whole thing. “I’ve seen it all before.”

She laughed through her nose, laying back on the bed and shimmying out of her skirt and stockings. “Just want to be comfortable.” 

He eyed her, looking up and down as she snuggled onto the bed, in just her underwear and sleeveless silk bouse, hair mussed. He kissed her forehead and ran a hand over her hip. “Oh, if you didn’t have a migraine…” the lust was put on, and elicited the smile he was hoping for. 

He stood, stepping in the bathroom and coming back with a damp washcloth. “Should I or do you want to do it?” He held it out to her, waiting as she blinked up at him, confused. “I don’t want to listen to you complaining about mascara stains on laundry day.” 

She had so little energy left that she simply closed her eyes and lifted her head to him. 

Steve’s hand gently pulled the cloth across her skin, taking the make-up with it. “Wow, it’s a bad one, huh?”

She hummed. “I’m wiped,” she murmured as he took off her lipstick. 

He bent and kissed her lips gently, swiping the cloth over her face once more for good measure as he sat up. “Good thing I’m home today.”

Peggy shifted, finding a good spot on her pillow. “Oh, I’m sure the front entrance tile would feel nearly as nice right now if you weren’t.”

“That’s what I was afraid of.” He smoothed back her hair as he gestured towards the little air conditioning unit they had installed in their window for the summer. “Want me to turn the AC on?” 

She hummed a positive. 

“Sleep?” he asked, standing. 

“Wake me for dinner.” She reached out a blind hand. 

He took it, tangling their fingers together for a moment. “I’ll see what you’re looking like.”

She forced her eyes opened, pinning him with a serious gaze. “No, wake me. We have important things to discuss.”

He sighed heavily. “That the ‘international espionage’ part of all this?”

She nodded. “It can’t wait. If I could think straight at all we’d do that first.”

He knelt, looking her in the eyes, dead serious. “Are you or the kids in danger?”

Her severity softened, “Not any more than usual. But it is serious.”

He squeezed her hand then stood. “Alright. But you’re getting at least three hours sleep. I know you were up all night last night.”

“Two.” He started to admonish her, then she held up a hand, “And I’ll sleep the whole night tonight, I promise.”

He sighed, then leaned over and kissed her temple one last time. “Deal.” He flicked the light switch, waiting and watching for just a minute as Peggy settled, her breathing evening out before he shut the door. 

~*~

Peggy didn’t look much better two hours later seated at the kitchen table, a cold wash cloth round her neck and her hands wrapped around a mug of tea, but once she managed to get the incident with Franklin out, Steve understood her urgency. 

He slid the toast in front of her as he sat, mouth pressed tight. “It’s an answer.”

“Sure is,” Peggy mumbled, picking up one of the slices and playing at the end with her fingernail. “I don’t think she’ll like it.”

Steve barked out a laugh, leaning back against the chair. “Dislike would be an understatement.” He looked up just in time to see Peggy bite into the dry toast and watched her chew slowly and swallow cautiously. “We have to tell her,” he nearly whispered.

She nodded, taking another small bite and chasing it with tea. “No way around it.”

“You think she’ll call Howard?”

Peggy looked up to him and raised her brows, rolling her eyes. “I think she’ll call Brezhnev. Have you met our daughter?”

His cheek quirked up, the smile half sad and half full of pride. “I have, and if she thought it would do any good she’d march right over to the Kremlin and knock on the doors.”

Peggy tossed her toast back on the plate and leaned back with a sigh, pulling the cloth from around her neck and twisting it in her hands. “She’ll be devastated.” She shook her head and looked up at Steve through heavy lashes. “She’s always hoped…”

He reached out and stilled her busy fingers. “We all knew what the possibilities were.”

“It still hurt,” Peggy admitted softly, “to have the undeniable truth in front of me. To know that once and for all she wasn’t ours.”

“She’s ours in every way that counts.” He was adamant in his declaration. 

Peggy stood, dropping the cloth on the table as she pushed herself into Steve’s lap, his arms wrapping around her instinctively as she laid her head on his shoulder. His fingers slowly moved into her hair, massaging little circles over her skull. She let her body sink into his for long moments, content in the solidity that was her husband, her right partner, her confidant in all of this. “Sometimes,” she finally whispered, barely loud enough to hear, “I liked to think that maybe, just maybe they’d managed it. Managed to get some bits of us somehow, and that they’d figured out how to make those little bits into a person. She’s so much like us, Steve.”

He hummed in agreement, his voice low and quiet. “Stubborn. Pig-headed. Impulsive.”

She tried to swat at his arm, but the gesture lacked any real strength. “I’m not kidding.”

“Neither am I,” he replied, kissing her forehead quickly. “She’s managed the best and the worst of us. James, too.”

“Speaking of…” She lead, eyes closing as Steve’s fingers massaged some of the pain away. 

“Baseball practice.” He looked up to the clock, his fingers still massaging small circles. “Should be home soon. I promised I’d take him out and let him practice more with the car at night.”

“I can’t believe he’s driving already.” Peggy sighed. “As long as you’re still not letting him take the motorcycle.”

Steve hummed happily. “It’s looking like I’ll have to, soon. One more semester of A’s and he’ll have kept his part of the bargain.” He let his hand run over Peggy’s thigh soothingly. “He’s getting stronger. He’s having more trouble pulling his hits. He knocked three out of the park in practice yesterday. I’ll take him to Howards this weekend, see if we can help him even it out.”

“I hate asking him to hide it,” Peggy muttered. 

“He understands.” Steve squeezed her close. “But he’s got his sights set on SHIELD.”

”See? Pigheaded, just like the rest of us.”

After another long moment, Steve sighed. “How’s the head?”

“Still miserable.”

He leaned back and brushed the hair from her face. “Can you manage any more toast?”

She hummed a negative and snuggled against his neck. “Do we have any more ginger tea?”

He stood, lifting her in his arms. “I’ll check once you’re settled back in bed. I shouldn’t have woken you.”

“No, I asked you to, and this was too important to put off,” Peggy held tight as he navigated the stairs, though she knew he would never drop her. “We need to come up with a plan.”

Steve gently laid her in bed. “Oh, I think I’ve got one.” He helped her slip her robe off and tucked her in Just as they heard the back door open and slam closed, James calling out that he was home. “You get some more rest, I’ll take care of everything.”

~*~

Mandy looked across the desk, her jaw hanging. “Uncle Howard, you can’t be serious.”

“As a heart attack.” He shrugged and spun the folder around. “The DNA doesn’t lie. It may be new technology, but it’s sound.”

Mandy picked up the folder, studying it intently. She’d spent years of her life sitting at her Uncle Howard’s side, trying to learn everything he knew about her parentage, everything he knew about what she was capable of, until she was nearly as well versed in it as he was. “The Winter Soldier, the man that doesn’t exist, is my dad?”

He leaned back, folding his fingers behind his head. “Kinda creates more questions than it answers, huh?”

“You could say that again.” She sighed heavily, looking over the printouts again. “Mom…”

“What about her?” He leaned forward again, elbows on his desk. 

“I mean, I guess….”

“She’s always known, kid, that you weren’t hers. She and Steve always knew exactly where you came from.” He reached across the desk and pushed the file down and away from her face. “If you’re thinking for one second that this will change the way they feel about you…”

She let the folder fall to her lap, her head hanging. “I was so scared they’d hate me when I first found out….”

“Yeah, I remember. But it won’t change a damn thing, and you know that.” He stood and rounded his desk, leaning on the edge and pointed to the pages she was studying. “This? This doesn’t mean a damn thing. It’s just DNA.” 

Mandy smiled up to him. It was something he’d said to her many times before when her search for answers started to overwhelm her. Her Uncle Howard, for all his faults sometimes, knew exactly how to make her feel better about all of this by breaking it down into simple, non-emotional science. “How can I tell them? I don’t-”

Howard smiled down at her, knowing Steve knew his daughter, even if she wasn’t biologically his, better than anyone. “I can tell them, if you want.”

~*~

Peggy set the phone down, turning back to her husband on the other end of the couch. “Howard said it went well. Went right as you expected, really.”

Steve put down his book, rubbing his face. “She likes the science part of it, and no one knows it better than Howard.” He held out his arms. “She’ll act a little odd for a few days, then she’ll be right back to normal once she processes all of it.”

“Howard said we should act a little worried, a little shocked. She’ll want to talk, I’m sure.” Peggy snuggled into his embrace, eyes focused on the television where the news droned on in the background. “You know, Steve, we did promise no more lies.”

“It’s not a lie. It’s just… a fib about the order of when we found out.” His hand fell to her back, running over it soothingly. He could feel the way she stiffened, even though she didn’t say anything. “She was gonna take it about as well as a bull in a china shop from us and you know that.”

“I do,” Peggy finally conceded. “And I suppose we did keep up about Santa and the Easter Bunny for far too long.”

“James was little.”

Peggy looked up at him, eyebrows knitting. “You are far too comfortable with these little fibs.”

“I’m just a little shit from Brooklyn. Had to use little fibs all the time.” He smiled down at her. “Did you forget that I lied to the US Army five times?”

Peggy laughed, laying back on his shoulder. “I do tend to forget that, actually.” She rubbed his chest, smiling. “You are just a little shit from Brooklyn, aren’t you?”

“You love me for it.”

~*~

September 1985

”Mandy, watch out, that arm’s mechanical!”

She ducked, sliding under the car and pulling her gun from her holster. “You think I didn’t notice?”

James huffed into his comm, hiding at the corner of the building. “I gotta get you home in one piece, if Mom finds out-“

“Oh, she already knows,” Steve sighed into his own comm, his voice crackling into his children’s ears. “We’re two blocks away with back up, you think you can hold him?”

“Cavalry’s running a little slow today, Pops?” Mandy laughed, trying to catch her breath as she kept the Winter Soldier in her eyeline. 

The comms crackled. “Very funny. You know what it took to get your mother to let me out?”

“We could use a sniper up on fifth,” James cut through the banter, a bullet flying past his position. “And a damn army,” he sighed. “Rest of the team’s gonna need a medic. He had a rocket launcher, flipped three cars. Better get clean up mobilized, too.” 

“Language,” Mandy bit out tightly, slinking around the car to stay hidden as the figure in black and silver moved confidently through the street. 

“Good man,” Steve replied to his son, not missing a beat before relaying the order to set up snipers and get the other teams mobilized. “You’ve got a good tactical eye, James.”

“Like Mom,” he muttered, dropping and crawling into the street. “And Mandy’s just as pigheaded as you both,” he muttered, cursing as he watched his sister stand up and away from the shelter of the overturned car, taking aim at the Winter Soldier. “Get back under cover, Mandy!”

“I’ve got him,” she whispered, taking aim. 

Time stood still as James watched her fire. They were both strong and fast, just like their father, but they also both knew the truth: the man in front of them was just as strong, just as fast, and had decades of training and experience over them. 

And he was Mandy’s biological father. 

It made her stupid. James knew it made her stupid. She took risks she never would have on any other op when the Winter Soldier was involved, she did things she’d never sanction any other agent doing, all in the name of stopping him, all in the name of keeping the man who sired her from hurting another person. 

It was almost as if she felt like it was a penance for a crime she never committed. He knew the knowledge of where she was found haunted her in ways she never shared with anyone but him. It was a secret she thought she’d kept tightly hidden, especially from her parents.

She fired, and it bounced off his left arm. 

The Winter Soldier froze. 

She fired again. 

He shuddered as it hit him in the shoulder. He turned. 

James would never forget the look of his eyes. He would never forget the way they narrowed, the dark black of the make-up around his eyes to cut down on the glare smudged to the side of his face, the way he could feel the man bare his teeth even though the bottom half of his face was covered with a mask. 

James would never forget the seconds he thought he’d watch his own sister die as the Soldier brought up his gun. 

And then a shield that he knew far too well flew in, knocking the gun to the ground. 

It was a flurry after that. 

James had seen his father in action, he’d seen him in training, but rarely, if ever, did Steve take point on missions. In theory, James knew he was impressive. 

He’d never seen him fight like this. 

It was like a well rehearsed ballet. Every punch was deflected, every kick avoided. His father and the Winter Soldier moved like one being, like they could anticipate how the other was thinking or like it had been pre-choreographed. When the soldier pulled out a knife, Steve dodged and avoided it, blocking with forearms and making the Soldier flip and drop it in a complicated series of moves that left James impressed and frightened. 

It was as if the Soldier had finally met his match, and he wasn't just deadly now, he was maniacal. James had heard stories, had seen him just barrel through men. This? This was entrancing. 

And then it was worrying, because when Mandy tossed their Dad his shield, the Soldier caught it in one hand instead, knowing exactly how to catch it, exactly how much reverb he had in the movement, and exactly how to wield it back to Steve that had him backing up and on his heels. 

The shield didn’t behave like normal metal did, it wasn’t easy to catch and move through space. James had taken months to learn how to catch and throw it under his father, and he still struggled. The Winter Soldier shouldn’t have been able to just master it like he had. 

“Dad…” James called out, nervous. Scared. 

For the first time, he didn’t think they actually had a chance. 

Steve’s voice rang out clear in his ear, even as he never stopped fighting, pinned against a truck. “Get your sister and go!”

”I am not leaving!” Mandy called out, rushing forward. James jumped to his feet, running after her and wrapping his arms around her just before she made it to the middle of the intersection where Steve was wrestling with the Soldier for control of his shield. “I can help!” She turned, gritting her teeth at her brother. “We can both help!”

James took a slow breath and then let go of her, stepping back and pulling his knife from his boot. He didn’t say anything, knowing it would be picked up by far too many people on comms, but just nodded. 

Without having to say when, they both moved forward. Mandy went low, James high, and they tackled the Soldier, giving their father enough time to get his shield on his arm and take a breath. 

If he was impressive one on one, the Winter Soldier was downright deadly as he took on all three of them. The youngest, James was the most inexperienced in the field, but he made up for it with his strength and speed and tactical understanding. None of that stopped the Soldier from picking him up by the neck and tossing him through the window of a bank across the street. 

Mandy was fast, though, and she swept his feet out from under him as he tried to turn back. They should have had him. 

They should have had him. 

But Steve and Mandy couldn’t help but look towards where James had been tossed to see if he was okay. The second it took them to look was enough for the Soldier to stand and rush Mandy, his metal hand wrapping around her neck and lifting her from her feet. 

Steve’s yell reverberated through the street at he rushed him, jumping on his back and wrapping his arms around the soldier’s neck, his eyes panicked as he looked at Mandy, her hands clawing at the metal one that held her feet off the ground, that was cutting off her breathing. 

And then, it was like the world stopped. 

The soldier loosened his grip just a little, and tipped his head, eyes blinking, not because of Steve, but because recognition was dawning in his eyes.  

It was just enough movement that it changed Steve’s grip, and the mask on the Soldier’s face tumbled to the ground. 

The Soldier set her down, a name croaking from his lips as she crumbled at his feet. “Rebecca?”

Steve jumped from his back as if he’d been burned. It was a voice he heard in his dreams and his worst nightmares. Suddenly, it all clicked into place: how he knew how to use the shield, how they were so well matched… and yet, it filled him with dread and gave him more questions than answers. 

He stumbled between the Soldier and his daughter, jaw slack. “Bucky?”

The Winter Soldier, Bucky Barnes, looked up at Steve, sneering. “Who the hell is Bucky?” 

And then they were grappling again, fighting hand to hand as Steve pushed him farther and father away from Mandy, farther and farther away from his daughter… their daughter… even though he was more confused than he’d ever been. 

They fumbled, tripping back over the curb, and in an instant Bucky had a gun in his hand, holding Steve at bay. 

“Bucky…”

He stepped back slowly, bringing his metal hand up to steady his shooting hand. 

“Dad!” James called, and tossed Steve’s shield to him. He ducked behind it just as the Soldier fired off a round of shots, the sound of them bouncing off the vibranium deafening. 

When he looked up, the Winter Soldier was gone. 

James is crouched by Mandy, shielding her from the bullets that have stopped. 

SHIELD vans were slowly pulling up. 

But he’s gone. 

Bucky was gone. 

Steve slid down by his daughter, lifting her to sitting and looking over her neck, the angry bruises already forming. “You okay?” He patted down over her head and shoulders, looking for other injuries. “You hurt anywhere else?” He turned, shouting over his shoulder, “Get the medic!”

”Fine,” she croaked out, clearing her throat. “I’ll be fine.” Mandy pushed away from him and swiped angrily at the tears that had gathered in her eyes more from pain and lack of oxygen than for any real emotion, though she’s more than overwhelmed. “We almost had him.”

”Don’t care about that, just care about you,” He responded, breathless, pulling her back into a hug. He turned his head, looking over at his son. “How about you?” He reaches out a hand, squeezing his son’s shoulder, running his fingers over his cheek where the glass he went through left tiny cuts. “Need the medic?”

”Nah,” James shook his head, his own hand laying on Mandy’s back, trying to help her calm her breathing. “I’ve had worse.”

“You’re mother’s gonna kill me,” Steve muttered, helping Mandy stand as the SHIELD medic ran to meet them. 

“Damn right I am,” Peggy’s voice crackled in his ear. “Not a damn instruction was followed by any of you.”

Mandy sat heavily on the curb, trying to wave away the medic even as Steve insisted he check her out. ”We almost-“

“Don’t say another word, young lady,” Peggy’s voice admonished. “I’m letting Fury clean this mess up before I say something I’ll regret.”

Steve got his way, and Mandy let the medic start checking her over. “We’ll be back as soon as the medic clears Mandy, Peg.”

“Damn well better be,” she muttered before she could be heard handing the comm over to Fury. 

Steve pulled the earpiece out and tucked it in his pocket, his children followed suit, waiting for the medic to give Mandy a clean bill. 

“Dad?” James finally asked quietly. 

“Yeah, bud?” He rubbed his face, watching the streets as SHIELD’s clean up team got to work. 

James tried to keep his voice even, non-accusatory. “You knew him.”

”I knew him,” Steve affirmed. He felt his heart sink again now that he wasn’t running on adrenaline anymore. He shook his head. “I used to know him.”

James sighed, turning away. “So you gonna tell me who Bucky was?”

”Better question,” Mandy started, standing, her voice still rough as the medic stepped away, “is who is Rebecca.” She sniffed, turning and heading away from the destruction, her father and brother falling in step with her. “He saw my face and he stopped dead.”

“The Winter Soldier…” Steve took a deep breath and sighed, “His name was Bucky Barnes. Rebecca was his sister.”

“So she would be my aunt, since he’s my father,” Mandy whispered, looking at her boots. “I guess I look like her. 

“You do.” Steve stopped moving, waiting until he could look at both his children. “He was my best friend, and I thought he died on a mission that went bad.” He reached out a hand and set it on James’ shoulder. “He’s who you’re named after.”

“He was a commando?” His son asked, moving again to get them towards a transport that would take them back to base.

“He was the commando. He was the closest thing I had to a brother. Hell, he was my family.” Steve stopped, turning to where his friend, now foe, had disappeared. “And now, we gotta find a way to help him.”

”Help him?” Mandy asked, turning her Dad around. “You can’t be serious.”

Steve looked around, content they were far enough away from anyone else that they wouldn’t overhear. “That man? He’s not the Bucky I knew. The Bucky I knew would never have done any of the things ascribed to him.” He dropped his voice and leaned down to Mandy. “You were worried about the kind of person you came from, about the kind of person Hydra would use to make you. I can tell you, Mandy, there is no better man. Bucky… he was…” Steve shook his head, at a loss for words. “If it were reversed, he wouldn’t stop until he got me out, and I can’t do any less.” 

“We,” James corrected him. “We can’t do any less. Not for family.”

Steve nodded, and they moved forward again in quiet lock step, filing into the back of a van. 

It was a quiet ride until just before they made it back to headquarters when Mandy popped her head up. “We still have to tell Mom.”

“Mom knew Bucky, too.” Steve let out a slow breath, his voice hovering between angry father and disappointed superior officer. “But I’m sure we’ll only talk about that after we talk about how you disobeyed orders, Mandy.”

She sighed, her voice less ragged than it was. “She’s gonna be so mad. She’s going to court-martial me.”

“Nah,” James smiled as they stopped, “Can’t get court martialed in SHIELD.” He helped her down from the van. “They’ll just throw you in a pit in Alamogordo.”

“Stop teasing your sister,” Steve tossed out as he jumped down and walked past them, the kids falling into step behind him. “Your mother’s wrath is much worse than anything they could throw at you in Alamogordo.” He paused, seeing Peggy waiting for them just inside the doors, hands on hips, jaw tight with fury but eyes full of anxiety. “Ready?”

“For mom’s wrath?” James asked, rolling his shoulders back. “No. But we don’t have a choice, do we?”

She didn’t yell, didn’t even move from where she stood when they came in, she just pointed to the elevator. “Office, now!” She called out in a clipped voice. 

Steve could feel the fear pouring off of her, the adrenaline and the anger mingling to clog her throat with emotion. Once they were in the elevator, he reached out, twining his fingers with hers. 

She turned and looked at him, unshed tears shining in her eyes. He just squeezed her hand. 

Whatever came next, they were going to deal with it together. 

Just like they always did. 

Like a family. 

[littlereyofsunlight]

Fondue's Just ...

I can't remember which Steggy friend came up with the idea that Peggy and Steve might have a cat named Fondue, but the headcanon stuck with me.

For day 1 of @steggyfanevents's Steggyweek 2023, here are some words about how that could have started off.

Peggy and the stray hadn’t really acknowledged one another for the first three months she lived in the little house in the suburbs. Though the crawlspace under the little Craftsman’s front porch was the cat’s preferred refuge when it was raining or otherwise inconvenient to be out of doors, she had three established options for easy meals in the vicinity already. Peggy, for her part, viewed the accommodations as temporary. Even if the cat had poked around her doorstep, Peggy would be going back to New York soon to open the second branch of the nascent intelligence operation Phillips had tasked her with building. 

The neighborhood was filled with people who needed temporary housing, however, owing to its proximity to Washington D. C. One by one, the other cats’ owners moved on and with them, the dishes of food left on porches and back steps. The stray hunted for what she could, but the days were still short and the nights cold; her usual prey aren’t so easy to find this time of year. Late one wretched evening as Peggy returned from the office, the cat allowed the cold, stinging rain to thoroughly soak her sleek fur and positioned herself at the front door just before Peggy climbed the steps onto the porch.

“The milk delivery’s not for another three days,” Peggy informed the cat as she unlocked the door and shook out her umbrella. The cat gave a pathetic mew in response. Peggy toed her gently out of the way. She wasn’t unsympathetic, but she was above all practical. “I don’t even keep plants, you will not fare well here. Try a different house.”

The cat slunk back under the porch and Peggy went inside to make tea and go over the files she’d brought home. The tea had gone cold by the time she remembered to drink it. 

The rain continued the following day and, by the time Peggy returned home, late again, it had turned into an early spring snowstorm. The drive back had been atrocious, and Peggy was exhausted. The cat was back at her door, visibly shivering. This time, Peggy let her in.

Peggy and the stray still didn’t often acknowledge one another, but as spring turned into summer, the cat now had a cushion in the chair by the window. She didn’t always sleep in the house at night, but Peggy made sure to leave out food for her every morning on her way into the office. Some other personal touches had crept into the rented house, and Peggy didn’t immediately give away the fern Ana Jarvis gifted her. The timeline for Peggy’s move to New York had been pushed back indefinitely. 

The cat took greatest interest in Peggy when she brought home her groceries, an event that was admittedly sporadic. The tea, the apples, the tinned fish, the head of lettuce and the box of biscuits all received perfunctory sniffs. The bag of rolls, however, were thoroughly investigated while Peggy had her back to the table. When she turned back around, one was missing. 

Peggy never did find that first roll, though she learned to keep a close eye on the cat around any fresh baked goods. She wasn’t one to engage an animal in one-sided conversation, but privately, she began referring to the cat as Bread.

Summer wore on and Bread spent more and more of her time outdoors. Another home up the street now had two cats in residence, so even if Peggy forgot to leave out dinner, Bread was satisfied. And the sun-warmed porch of Peggy’s house was still her preferred spot to lounge on afternoons.

One such afternoon, Bread trotted back to her porch to find a man seated on the top step. She kept her distance as she slunk around the side and hopped up into the planter box. She settled in for a rest beneath the plant there, but kept her ears pricked in his direction. A rhythmic sound, a soft click followed by a snap, told the cat he didn’t move all afternoon. 

After that, there were two people coming and going from the cat’s porch. 

He went much less than Peggy, though. Often, for the rest of that long summer, he only made it as far as the porch. He would drag a chair close to the rail and sit with his lunch and a sketchbook, scratching away at the paper. 

The cat was no longer wary of him, and would sit by his foot as the hours wore on. Occasionally Steve would scratch her behind her ears, which she allowed. 

One day, Steve went in to answer the phone and left his sandwich on his chair. By the time he’d returned, the cat had neatly removed the slice of Swiss, a fact he only realized after taking two bites.  The following week, the cat managed it again when Steve was talking to the postal worker. Whenever he ate a sandwich, she would try to steal from it. She took to winding herself between his legs, vocalizing with begging little mews. Eventually, Steve relented. “Okay, okay,” he told the cat as she dug her claws into his pants just a little, intently watching as he deconstructed his lunch to give her a bit, “I guess I’m going to call you Cheese.”

[behindthelabels]

(One of) Five Times Howard and Bucky Cock-Blocked Steve and Peggy

For @steggyfanevents Steggy Week Day Six: Multiverse

I had hoped post all five times and the one for Steggy week but time got away from me, so here's the first.

Training with Steve has become the highlight of her day. It’s the only good thing about being stuck here doing nothing. She’s here with Steve, a man she admired quietly through basic training, felt a kinship with as they chatted on the car ride over, then took what should have been his.

She’s so so grateful he’s okay, when she saw him get shot she thought it was over, and she couldn’t bear it. But he’s a fighter and he hung on for her as she went into the machine and took the serum.

She’s been scolded and berated for taking it, by everyone except Steve.

She’s a super soldier, but one who’s relegated to an army base as a lab rat as they try to recreate the serum without using her. She wants to be more than this, trains to be more than this, but they won’t let her, because she’s a woman.

She’s mad, and she channels it in training, where only Steve sees. She wonders what he thinks of her new strength if he envies it as he struggles to walk again using those two bars.

She’s apologized for taking his chance more than once, he swears it’s okay, that he believes that she will be the one to win the war, but it’s hard to see that right now.

She knows for a fact she wouldn’t be so charitable if it had been her shot that was taken by someone else, but he’s so good, and that’s why it should have been him.

It’s the only reason she’s agreed to stay a lab rat—in hopes, they recreate the serum and give it back to the man who was supposed to have it.

She watches him struggle to learn how to walk again, knowing that if he had the serum he would be healed already.

She feels guilty, but also happy he’s here and safe. She never wants to see him get shot at again. Steve Rogers is a fighter but his body isn't made for the fight, and she knows he’d have been left behind at first chance if he somehow made it to the front line.

He deserves better than that, people who see him for who he really is, not just the man who should have had the serum. He is so much more than that.

She watches him sometimes, sees that mental strength and fortitude, that fight, as he pushes past his limits. Somehow he stays sweet, and positive, while she grows increasingly angry and bitter.

She needs to take a page out of his book, but she's not Steve Rogers, never will be, all she can do is follow his great example.

She’s watching him again, watching as his arms shake while he holds himself up, testing out how much weight he can put on that left side. He’s able to put more on it today than yesterday, is constantly improving, even if he can’t see it.

He settles and she watches proudly as he ever so slowly releases the bars until he’s standing.

“Peggy,” he marvels, turning over his shoulder to see if she’s looking. He smiles for a second, then she watches with horror as his weight shifts, too much of it falling onto his injured side, and he starts to crumble.

She rushes over, grabbing him and scooping him into her arms before she can think about what she’s doing. He’s so light, and she’s reminded again of how fragile he is, how breakable; all because of her.

She holds him close, asking breathlessly, “Are you okay?” and feels him nod against her, as she lets out a sigh of relief.

She sets him back between the bars, and he breathes, “Thanks, Peggy,” as she becomes painfully aware of how close they are, of how blue his eyes are, how beautiful his smile is. She wants him to look this way all the time, wants to be the one to bring a smile to his face.

He’s flushed and flustered and it only makes him more irresistible. She’s never been this close to him before, and she can’t seem to pull away. The air between them is electric, charged and she wants nothing more than to close the scant distance between their lips, to feel the warmth of his skin again. Her breathing is ragged, his is too, and she can feel it on her skin. What if—

“Agent Carter,” Howard calls and she jumps away from Steve who starts blushing harder. “I need your help.”

“I, um, I have to go,” she stammers and rushes away like a fool.

“What more blood samples?” she asks Howard.

“Not quite, what do you know about the Tesseract?”

[beautifulwhensarcastic]

“Break!” Peggy declared, stopping mid step. 

Steve, a step or two in front of her, halted immediately. He turned to her, a quick scan of her whole body to make sure there was no need to worry.

Peggy was bent over, hands on her knees and her breath slightly wheezing. Otherwise she seemed fine; if perhaps a little disheveled, but that was mostly due to the wind that lashed at their faces as they ran down the hill. 

“Everything okay?” Steve asked, walking back to her. 

“Yes, perfectly fine.” Peggy answered, still out of breath. 

After a moment, she straightened. Her face was flushed - exertion and wind to blame for that. A few ringlets of her hair escaped the tight ponytail, sticking out in various directions, some stuck to her sweaty forehead.

To Steve she looked beautiful, as always. 

“Turn around.” Peggy pointed at Steve with her index finger and made a circular motion. 

“Why?” Steve’s eyebrows drew in confusion, at the same time he turned his back to her, peeking at Peggy over his shoulder as she stepped closer. “Do I have something on my back?” 

“Not yet.” He thought he heard a chuckle in Peggy’s voice.

A second later and she jumped up, bracing her hands on Steve’s shoulders and wrapping her legs around his hips. 

On instinct, Steve quickly reached back, hands gripping Peggy’s thighs and helping her secure her weight on his back. She squeezed his sides with her thighs and propped herself up. 

“We can go now.” She announced, pressing her cheek to Steve’s. 

“We were supposed to be jogging.” Steve snorted. 

He changed his hold on her thighs, making it easier for the both of them to carry her weight. Though for Steve it made little difference. He could carry Peggy in any position. He’d carry her to the top of the world, if she asked him to. 

Which he told her one evening, when he was feeling extra sappy as they laid in the little backyard behind their house, cuddling on a blanket and stargazing. 

Peggy laughed then and brushed a kiss on his jaw. She said they have enough adventures in their lives and she’d rather have him hold her against a wall when they feel impatiently needy. 

“You wanted to go jogging.” Peggy corrected Steve. “I decided I want a doughnut.” 

“Which we were supposed to get at the end of our run.” He pointed out. 

“So you better end your run quickly, because I really want that doughnut.” 

Steve shook his head and chuckled. He didn’t break into a run, though he could do it even with Peggy clinging to him like a monkey. He set a brisk pace, but limited it to walking. 

“Instead of promises of carrying you to the top of the world, I should simply vow to take you to any bakery you wish.” He joked, grinning at the elder couple they were passing, who had to hear part of their conversation because they exchanged knowing looks. 

“That’s why I married you.” Peggy tightened her hold around Steve’s shoulder and pecked a sweet kiss to his neck. 

“And the guys were warning me about the dangers of never satisfying a wife. Idiots.” 

“Well, things may get dangerous if you don’t get me that doughnut

 a little gift for @doctorhelena for finishing her workout challenge 💪💞