#womenarethesequel

[beautifulwhensarcastic]

Peggy/Steve + musical AU for @womenarethesequel

At 40 Margaret Carter is already a renowned choreographer with a shelf of awards, who can be picky about the projects she takes on. When her dear friend, Abraham Erskine, asks her to work on his newest musical Peggy says yes almost immediately. Perhaps she shouldn’t have. Abraham’s choice for the lead role is a completely unknown newbie - which in itself isn’t bad, Steve Rogers has a handsome face that could take over a silver screen and a powerful voice (with a warm timbre that sends a pleasant thrill down Peggy’s spine). But he’s the worst dancer Peggy has ever worked with. Erskine won’t change his mind, Peggy made a promise, and Steve is so eager to learn she has no other choice but to make it work. Aside directing choreography for the whole show, Peggy spends extra hours on solo dance lessons with Steve. 

P.S. Yes, this story has a cougar Peggy and younger Steve.

[captainjimothycarter]

For the Made Up Fic Title: Lost and Found

Lost and Found

StevePeggy

Tags: Soulmate AU

Okay this MIGHT be because you said soulmate au but it won’t be as epic as yours.

Soulmates are common and expected in this lifetime. When one dies they are reborn into a new body, almost cursed to find their soulmate again. They remember little from their past life, the only gudiance one has is the compass on their wrist that constantly goes haywire until they are close to their soulmate. More so than just feets are yards away, each person is different.

Soulmates are a curse and this curse only ends when one bonds with their soulmate and the manner of bonding is different per couple. For some, its just a touch, a whisper, marriage, even sex. It could take lifetimes for one to figure out their bonds. Their lives might change, their bodies as they go through the years, but never the means of their bonding.

For Steve and Peggy, they are unsure.

They spend eons searching for one another.

Dipping in and out of lives, living on borrowed time. Losing and gaining one another. Frustration as they can’t figure out their bonds before something happens to one another.

Steve starts to keep a list as to how they attempt to bond, the list follows him from lifetime to lifetime, its the one thing he’s allowed to keep through the lifetimes, as each person is allowed.

They’ve try everything: kissing, touching, snuggling, cuddling, even sex. So much sex. 

Now, Steve finds himself in modern world, his head aching, his body feels like its been through the runner, and standing above him, he doesn’t need his compass to tell him, is his soulmate.

Peggy smiles down at him as she pulls the 6′2 man to his feet and kisses him, dead on the lips.

“I told you I’d find you again, soldier. Let’s make this one last.”

[teaandatale]

For the fanfic writer questions, #1 & #13!

Thanks for asking! :D

1. has a comment someone left on a fic of your ever made you laugh out loud?

Answered here. But I found another classic @geekynerddemon comment on my fic Comforts of Home: I thought this was a TEAANDATALE STORY? False advertisement much??? What is this 2k story? Where is the 10k+ story this was meant to be????? I'm joking... kinda

13. do you make playlists for when you write? If so, share!

YES I sure do! I have a general “Writing” playlist of mostly instrumental music, but I will typically make a specific playlist for a fic if I really want to boost my focus. Typically these are short and consist of songs that either helped prompt the fic or helped flesh out it’s mood, and I listen to it on repeat.

A short example is my playlist for “Play Like a Girl”:

Do It by Rae Morris

Kiss Me by Sixpence None The Richer

L-O-V-E by Nat King Cole

Isn’t She Lovely by Frank Sinatra

Paper Airplanes by Canyon City

Man! I Feel Like A Woman! By Shania Twain

Saturday in the Park by Chicago

[3pirouette]

Okay but now after that (incredible!!!) Thanksgiving fic for Dissent Speaks I'm really curious as to how/when the public finds out about Steve and Peggy's relationship

Since I don’t think I’m going to write more in that universe (it seems to be contained, and once Jan 20th hits, I kinda want to put all those emotions behind me, you know?) I’ll give you the DVD extra here. 

~*~

Peggy and Steve manage to keep things under wraps for a while, until Peter accidentally starts a livestream instead of uploading the latest Rappin’ with Cap. While Peter talks with Tony about how they’re going to focus their messages for the holidays, the phone, from Peter’s back pocket, catches Steve in full costume and Peggy in jeans and a sweater, arms wrapped around each other in the corner. The moment of her pulling off his helmet, gently and lovingly, goes viral. 

But the kissing, oh the kissing. The kissing is what takes the internet by storm and winds up on morning talk shows because good lord is it not by the book or simple or even gentle. The audio doesn’t pick up what Peggy whispers in his ear right before he takes her mouth, but people speculate. The Memes, oh the memes are born of what she might have said. It’s the way he takes her mouth, confidently and passionately, the way he tangles his hand in her hair and the way she takes two fist fulls of of his uniform while he grabs her ass with his other hand that gets people thinking that she must have said something absolutely filthy. Fans all over the internet make videos proclaiming they wish they were Peggy to the part of the video where Steve lifts her from the ground with almost no effort at all, her legs wrapping around his waist. 

But the best part of the video is the last part. The part where Tony finally notices them and yells “Rogers! Go get yourself a room. There are children in here!” and they stop kissing, faces turning to the camera, surprised and embarrassed, before Peter’s voice squeaks out, “Mr. Stark, I am not a-” followed by a comical gasp and the video cutting to Tony Stark’s thigh as Peter turns around to see Cap and Peggy. 

Peter immediately turns back around, mumbling he’s sorry as the video shows Steve placing Peggy down gently, the two of them flustered and rearranging their clothes.The video gets wild then as Stark pulls the phone from Peter’s back pocket, his hand covering the camera to blackness before his voice is heard booming. “Well, you’re going to be a lot sorrier in a minute, young man. How do I turn this thing off?”

The video, no matter how many times Tony tries to erase it, continues to pop up all over social media, and Steve and Peggy are forced to revel their relationship. 

Al Roker brings it up at least once a week on Good Morning America. 

[doctorhelena]

Eee happy birthday sweet fellow libra!! 🥳♎️

Thank you! 🥰 And happy birthday (sometime around now) to you too! ❤️

[alexanderhamllton]

Ren, your heart is filled with so much love. Thank you for sharing all your positivity (no matter how small) at times when it can seem posts on here are overrun by terrible things. You are a gem with a genuinely kind soul. Stay golden xoxo

Oh my god Andie, this made my morning, thank you so much!!!! You’re an angel

[hamimagines]

First off, HAPPY BIRTHDAY. Secondly, I originally came to tell you to never forget that you hold the stars in your eyes and to never let anyone take that from you. You're sweet, and so incredibly genuine. Thank you for writing. Thank you for existing. Stay golden xoxo

Oh my god this is so artsy and beautiful and it made me feel sparkly I LOVE YOU THANK YOU SO MUCH AHHH

[sunshinemiranda]

So I'm late to the party but I just saw the KOTLB update and I haven't stopped screaming since???? Everything about it is so good??? And you are so good??? I am so excited!!!!!

FHKFSJFS. I LOVE YOU. ENDLESSLY. 

[musical-miranda]

Oh my goodness chapter 8 of TMM has me dead it was so good and WHAT A TWIST JESUS. Anyway it was so good, you're so good, it's all good

Ahh, I’m so glad you liked it! I think I died a few times writing it. That little plot twist was one of the first and few things I planned in this fic actually, so I’m really loving seeing all the reactions to it! You’re so sweet, you’re so good to me, thank you

[sunshineystilinski]

So I just read "Window Pain" and oh my goodness my heart!!!! I can't wait for the next part! :D

I’m so glad you enjoyed it!! Next part will be up as soon as possible!

[iwrotemywayto-revolution]

womenarethesequel reblogged your post and added:

I just read all of this and I’m in LOVE. Literally...

aahhhhh thank you! I just read your fic Heartstrings and I have to know if there’ll be more.... will there?

[beautifulwhensarcastic]

For the WIP guessing game: breath

You get a piece of a sort of steggy AU set in Snowpiercer universe created by @indiefic - Curtis and Anna (who have the faces of Steve and Peggy)

She felt relieved to be away from him, though she wasn't sure if it's her father's schemes that bothered her, or the unexpected presence of a man who just with his entrance stole her breath.

______________________________

work in progress guessing game

[captainjimothycarter]

Soft steggy prompt: the first time Steve gets flowers for Peggy

Soooo not what you wanted but ??? this is what came out.

--

Steve took in a deep breath as he looked down at the rows and rows of flowers, all arranged in beautiful bunches. Around him, there were a few people still in the store in the late evening. He knew the owner was getting ready to close soon, he had to make his choice and go.

But what was the perfect choice then? 

This was Peggy they were talking about. She would know the language of flowers because she taught him. He understood the basics and didn’t want to show up with a bouquet that said ‘i hate your guts.’ He wanted to show up with the perfect one that said everything he couldn’t.

That would take the words right out of his mouth. He wanted Peggy to just know exactly how he felt.

When he chose the flowers, the florist simply stared at him for the longest second of his life, looking thoroughly annoyed. Maybe it was because Steve had been over here for an hour and he chose some of the most awkward looking flowers for any bouquet that made no sense.

“Special night?” he asked, using scissors to cut the flower stems and neatly arrange them in a bouquet. 

“Yeah, actually. It’s our anniversary,” Steve laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. “First time getting her flowers too.”

The man blinked, trying to connect the two before his shrug told Steve it wasn’t his problem. “Well good luck with that. Here we go.” 

Steve got the sense he wanted him out of there. Thanking him and taking the bouquet underarm, the blonde found himself stepping outside the shop in the brisk, cold air. The sun had long set, making the walk down the street cold and empty.

The flowers seemed to be the only thing of color in this place. The only thing that brought joy to an otherwise dreary neighborhood. 

Kneeling by the gravestone, his fingertips brushed the fallen leaves off and set the bouquet in their spot. His eyes fell onto Peggy’s name, tracing over it before a shuddering sigh left his chest.

“Seems to be that I’m always late, darling,” he whispered, bending down to press his forehead to the cold marble. Just a year too late for her, just a year too late to tell her he was alive so she could go in peace. 

She died, believing he was dead and Steve didn’t know which was worst.

Peggy didn’t deserve to die at all. She deserved to be immortal. To live a long, healthy life, not to die in her sleep.

“Hey, Pegs,” he breathed, sitting up to look down at the white marble again. “Things are-are going okay, I guess. SHIELD is working me pretty hard, but it keeps me busy. Don’t get much time to think about anything, so I suppose that’s good. Looked up Bucky’s family - his sister is still alive. Just barely, she’s a fighter, like she’s always been. She’s been telling me about all that you did for her after...after the war ended. They wouldn’t have survived without your help.”

The marble is cold to touch, the sun has done nothing to warm it. The evening wind and the threat of snow sap any warmth that should’ve been there. 

“Looked into the-the Howlies. They’re all gone, Pegs. Dugan died shortly after you did, ole fucker didn’t want to...to be the last, I bet. Hurts like hell, but I-I suppose that’s life. People grow old and die and forget and...and…” His breath hitched and he bit the inside of his lip, trying his best not to cry. 

“I shoulda told you I loved you from the start. Or maybe it’s best I didn’t, maybe it’s best the way this happened, me crashing the plane and waking up here and wondering what could’ve been. Not leaving you with the reality that I-I said I loved you. Would that had been harder to move on from? Hell if I know. Feels like anything I know is taken from me. The whole world knows me and yet I don’t know a damn thing about it. Truth is…”

He adjusted the purple bow and stroked over the soft material before dropping his hands. 

“Truth is, Pegs, I do love you. I ain’t gonna stop loving you. Been goin’ to therapy cause I know that’s what you’d want of me, to get better for myself, to stop this moping. Ain’t much but a bunch of us veterans sitting around in a circle. They do most of the talking. I can sympathize with them, but I don’t know much of what they went through. Found a few World War II veterans and we’ve been talking it’s...so odd to see faces I barely remember in the 107th...they can relate more.”

The tears are the only thing warm on him, not for long. They dry and nearly freeze to his skin. He’s not even aware he’s crying right now. He doesn’t want to cry. There’s no point in crying.

“I don’t know what to say, what I-I should say. There’s so much I want to say but I can’t find the words. So much I wanna ask about you, about your life. Did you know Howard has a son? Of course, you do...you were on top of him. Or-or...that I love you. Gods, Pegs, I love you. I think about you far too much and yet not enough. I think about what could’ve been. Our dance. I would step on your shoes. You would laugh. Our life. Working together to make a better future. Peggy, I...am so proud of your work…”

The bouquet bristled in the wind and Steve sniffled, rubbing his nose on the back of his hand. Right, the bouquet. He nearly forgot about that.

“I gotcha a bouquet. Promised you I’d get you flowers back in the war, but they were...never right for you. It’s got daisies, means innocence, right? Sunflowers cause you said my hair reminded you of sunflowers, but-but it means loyalty, adoration. Tulips they-they means love too and oh roses because you...you deserve the best. Shoulda saw me, Pegs, I was helpless choosing…”

Steve could sleep here. He had before when he first woke up. Slept right on top of her grave, didn’t mean to either, his body just felt too exhausted to walk home. He’d taken the time the next day to clean hers and his ma’s, even take time to clean Bucky’s. He carefully avoided his own. It felt wrong to look at when he stood outside of it here.

The moon was high above them by the time Steve left, nose dripping with snot and eyes burning with tears as he stumbled out of the graveyard. Too dark to try to see around him, too much into his head to check his surroundings.

He didn’t see the figure that stepped out from the trees or watch it approach the newly laid bouquet. Later that night, he would be fast asleep, unknowingly aware that someone was in his room. Fingernails that were painted red would stroke through his blonde hair before adjusting the sheets around him. They will lay the rose and bow on the bedside table, directly over the compass.

A soft kiss, the barest of touches would be laid on his temple, and for once, Steve’s face smoothed out of all wrinkles, for once he looked so at peace.

[teaandatale]

I just want you to know I read your summary/description for your WIP Steggy Diplomats AU last night and I'm still thinking about it!! Like holy cow it just sounds like an epic saga, and I love that it's got a dark vibe to it. 10/10

Aw thanks pal! What a compliment for just some snippets!

Tbh I forgot just how dark a vibe I had running through this one. I don’t quite exactly remember how the idea came to me, but a lot of it, full scenes fleshed out quickly. There’s a lot I have in mind for this one, but I’m keeping a few of the plot twists and turns close to the chest right now ;)

And truly, thanks for your interest! Sometimes writing is super lonely & disheartening, and hearing people interested definitely makes me want to write faster!

[3pirouette]

Modern au where Peggy is a new professor at the university that Steve also teaches at

WTF. This turned into a whole fic. Like a legit whole fic with potentially more? WHAT? (Also, I went to a small liberal arts college that used to put professor’s offices in the most ridiculous places. My dance professors had their offices int he science building 🤷🏻‍♀️🤦🏻‍♀️) 

He had a reputation. 

Well, based on gossip it seemed all of the teachers had some sort of reputation. It was a small liberal arts college and it seemed their gossip mill was worse than her high school’s. She was sure she’d have her own reputation in days, if she didn’t have one already.

It seemed asinine that as their criminal justice professor her office was in the arts building and not the humanities building, but she was new, and beggars couldn’t be choosers. 

The first time she passed his classroom all she saw was a mess. There were tarps and boxes and colors everywhere and little to no organization. Her office was right across from the disaster he called a classroom, and for the two weeks leading up to classes she didn’t manage to catch a glimpse of him. 

She’d been warned he was quiet and elusive. One professor warned he bordered on antisocial. According to RateMyProfessor.com he was listed as a fairly easy good grade, helpful, always at his office hours, and finally, overwhelmingly by the female students, listed at good looking. 

The classroom took shape over the few weeks before students arrived. Slowly supplies were put away and tarps revealed easels and pottery wheels. By the time classes started there was an ordered chaos and she looked forward to peeking through the window of her small, drab office to see the bright colors of his studio. 

He was, she discovered very quickly, incredibly good looking. He had a painting class during her Tuesday office hours. It was the only time during the first semester she ever caught a glimpse of him. She’d watch as he taught through both her window and his open door when she had blessed little to do. She’d watch him walk from student to student, catching glimpses of him here and there. She became bold, eventually, and under the guise of being more approachable during her office hours started propping her door open, as well.

She could hear his beautiful tenor talking about impressionists and brush strokes with her door open. She daydreamed to his lectures on color theory and doodled when he explained chiaroscuro. She loved that when the students were given free time to work on their projects he played music that fit the assignment: classical for replicating the Greco-Roman style, jazz for Picasso inspired pieces, ambient sounds for still life. She was starting to wonder, as winter break drew closer, how she could ever find a way to introduce herself after spying on him for what felt like so long. 

It was the Tuesday before Thanksgiving break when she found herself headed back to her office early. They’d suffered an early snowstorm and only half her class, the half that lived on campus she noted, had made it to class. She was already tired and cranky and sore from digging her own car out of the snow in order to make it to class this morning. She’d taken pity on the kids, answered questions about the homework, and dismissed them early. 

She fairly skated down the sidewalks, only half shoveled and slick under her dress shoes. She was desperate to impress, hoping to keep this job into next year, and had opted for business casual flats instead of the even more sensible snow boots. 

She arrived at the arts building earlier than she ever had on a Tuesday, and she was so surprised to see him standing there, in a paint stained polo and slacks, locking up his classroom, that she forgot to pay attention to where she was stepping. As soon as she put her slick dress shoes on the wet tile, she went sliding. In her effort to regain her balance she twisted and felt an all too familiar sensation. 

She couldn’t quite remember if she cried out as she was going down, or after she landed hard on her tailbone, but she did remember that the words that came out of her mouth were not to be said in polite company. 

Peggy sat up, reaching for her bag as he rushed to her side, slipping a little himself even though he had on rubber soled sneakers. “Are you ok?” She opened her mouth to reply, but he shook his head and continued before she could. “No, not ok. Here.” He reached out, helping her up. “I’ve told them a thousand times they need to put one of those all-weather rugs in here. I can’t tell you how many times kids have wiped out after a snow fall like this.” 

Peggy got to her feet, her hands still in his as she smiled at him. “Thank you. I suppose it does make me feel a little better that I’m not the only one.”

He laughed nervously. “No, not at all.” He noticed they were still holding hands and pulled his back, rubbing his together nervously. “Oh!” he bent and started picking up the papers that fell out of her messenger bag when she’d hit the floor, nervously trying to straighten them. “I’m sorry, they’re a little wet. And crinkled.”

Peggy smiled, limping around and grabbing the rest. “No worries, only my notes. I can print them out again if need be.” 

He stopped, watching her limp around. “You’re hurt!”

She stopped and realized how she was walking. “Oh, it’s nothing.” She tried to put her full weight on her leg in the next step, but it nearly collapsed under her.

He was by her side, holding her up with a hand on her elbow and one around her hip, before she could hit the floor. “That’s not nothing.”

“Had surgery on that ACL more than once,” she murmured. “If it’s torn again, I swear…”

Her face was close to his as he held her up. She’d had her balance for long moments now, but neither moved away. All at once Peggy realized that while she was standing here, enjoying the feel of his arm around her waist and wondering if he’d run if she kissed him, that there was a very real possibility that he had no idea who she was. “Good lord! I’ve forgotten myself. I’m Peggy.”

Steve smiled at her. “Professor Carter.” He nodded. “Your office is across from my studio.” He cleared his throat and stepped away, holding out his hand. “Steve Rogers.”

~*~ He had a reputation. 

He knew it, he just didn’t care. 

He wasn’t one to attend big college functions or even little faculty meetings. He just wanted to teach art. He’d had trouble, at first, navigating the social aspect of the small college, he wanted nothing to do with happy hours and socializing outside, but after a while they’d started to leave him alone, and the head of his department had come to see him as competent and dependable. 

He still had the errant new teacher, or old professor, try to get him to go out for drinks, or even the odd invitation for a date, but he always declined. 

He liked to keep his personal life personal and his professional life professional.

He didn’t squash any of the rumors, but never gave credence to any of them, either. 

That didn’t mean he didn’t like to know what was going on around the school, or things that were happening. He was just quiet about it. 

Even after years at the school, his office was still in the theater building. Though he still oversaw the construction and painting of most of the scenery for the theater’s shows, his heart was in the fine art classes he taught: the pottery and painting and drawing. There was an empty office right across from that studio, and he’d been asking for almost two years to move there. 

He was gutted when he heard it was going to belong to the new Criminal Justice teacher. 

It took weeks for him to get a glimpse of her. Her name plate went up by the door, along with a small plant and a coffee mug on her desk.

He couldn’t find any Professor Peggy Carter anywhere, but he did find a mention of an Agent Peggy Carter, formerly of Shield, who had been honored after a career ending injury during the takedown of a terrorist organization known as Hydra.  

That shifted him from angry to intensely curious. 

As soon as her office hours went up next to her name on the door he knew he was going to have a hard time finding an excuse to meet her. If she was in her office, he was either teaching his scene shop class or in his own office hours halfway across campus. Except for the day he taught his advanced techniques class. Her office hours were smack in the middle of the class, but it was something. 

From the middle of the room, where he often taught, he could see right into her office. Most days he was looking at inky blackness of the empty room. But on Wednesdays… 

The first time he saw her he didn’t think it was her. It couldn’t have been, not based on the things the article said she did. He’d been imagining someone large, muscular… someone who did Crossfit and MMA and who looked like a badass. She was gorgeous. She was soft and curvy and had luscious bright red lips and long brown hair and she wore heels and skirts and there was no way she could have been the woman who took down fifteen highly trained terrorists with just a knife and three feet of rope with a torn ACL. 

And then he saw her with Tompkins. 

Brad Tompkins was a notorious junior who thought his father’s influence and enough money could pass any class for him. He was rude and indignant and there were rumors of harassment allegations against him from both students and professors. He’d taken a pottery class thinking it would be an easy A. Steve had taken great delight in failing him after he’d done nothing but play with clay in class and refused to show up to the final. 

Steve had grown used to seeing Peggy’s calm, serene face as she did work, her look of concentration as she graded papers or prepped classes, and her soft, understanding face when she helped upset or confused students maneuver her class. 

There was a moment, though, where Peggy was talking with Tompkins, and she looked at the boy. Steve had been in the perfect spot, at the perfect time, to see this look. And without a doubt he knew this woman could take out a squad of trained killers. He didn’t need to hear her voice to tell the tone she was taking, or to read her lips to feel the importance of her words. Steve found reasons to hover by the window next to the door and watch as she took the boy to task. The young man slinked away from her office, and the next day the teachers were discussing how he’d actually been in the library that night. 

He was impressed. 

And smitten. 

The nice thing about his advanced classes was that they rarely needed more than a little direction when working on their own projects. He was hands off with them, leaving them to explore and try new things but available to help when they needed or wanted more. This left him time during those classes to work on his own art.

Sometimes he would participate in whatever the lesson was, creating a Picasso style piece of his own room, or a still life of plastic fruit in red hues. Slowly, though, he found himself drawn to an even more interesting subject. 

He drew her profile first. She was working at her computer and they were working with charcoals. She didn’t need to look at her hands while she typed, and her profile was steady. It called to him to sketch as he stared at her, and he couldn’t ignore it. Light and shade on brown butcher paper did her little justice, even when he dipped into the pastels for a radiant red to bring her lips to life.

The next week they were working on line abstracts, and he called to mind the way he’d seen her leaning in her doorway once, talking to another teacher. He let the line move on, unbroken, outlining her hips and the long line of her calves, the sharpness of her heels and bounce of her hair, twisting as he crossed her arms over her chest and meandering through the gentle slope of her nose.  

The students were focusing on finding depth in two dimensions. He pulled out his sketch book and focused on her legs. She’d started keeping her door open, and his door was always open, and from his little desk he could see straight into her office and by god were her legs distracting. 

By November he had nearly a dozen drawings of her. Some from her sitting there, some from memory, and all both something he was proud of and something he found utterly embarrassing. He’d gotten to the point where he couldn’t just walk over and introduce himself- it had been too long, and he couldn’t quite come up with a good way for them to “accidently” meet. 

He was locking up his classroom for Thanksgiving break when he heard a bang followed by a string of curses in what he’d come to recognize as her perfect English accent. 

He didn’t think twice about running over to her aid, and managed to make an ass of himself trying to help her stand and pick up her papers. It wasn’t until her was holding her, quite a bit more intimately than barely colleagues should be touching and quite a bit less than he wanted to be touching her, that she actually introduced herself. 

“Can I help you to your office?” he asked, loathe to let this chance go by.

She smiled sadly. “No, I think it’s best I go home and ice my knee.” She shrugged, and he could almost imagine she was as nervous as he felt. “I wouldn’t mind a hand out to the car, though, if you don’t mind.”

Steve put his arm out and she threaded her hand through it. “Happy to help.” He pushed the door open and they were both hit by the bitter cold wind. “I’ll call maintenance in the morning, get one of those rugs out here.”

Peggy laughed as he helped her step down the curb into the parking lot. She pointed to the back corner where her car was. Usually she hated the far parking spot, but at the moment, on Steve’s arm, she wasn’t complaining. “Oh, I think I’ve learned my lesson. Rubber wellies from now on.” 

He chuckled with her. “I can’t say it’s a bad idea.” They were quiet as they navigated a particularly slick patch. “Gosh, I hate to sound overbearing, but are you sure you’re going to be alright getting home?”

Peggy stopped as they reached the back of her car. She smiled up, nodding. “It’s painful, but it’s been worse. I’m sure it just needs a little rest.” 

Steve bobbed his head, nodding and stepping back, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Good, good.” He stepped back, giving her room to step between her car and the one next to it. “You know, I’d just…” He pulled out his phone, “Let me give you my phone number. Just, just call or text or something, when you get home. These roads get slick and…”

He hadn’t even looked up from his babbling with his phone vibrated that he’d received her airdropped contact information. He smiled, and wordlessly texted her a quick smile emoji, so she’d have his number, as well. 

She laughed when she got it, and waved her phone at him. “I’ll let you know when I’m home safe and sound, ok?”

“Good.” He watched her get in her car and start the engine. He shoved his hands and phone back in his pocket, picking across the parking lot to his own car. 

His phone vibrated with a message before he’d even gotten his key in the ignition. 

It was nice to finally meet you. I feel like I know you after listening to your class each week. 

He smiled. His heart leapt a little at the idea that this wasn’t once sided. 

Nice to meet you, finally, too. I’m sorry it took you falling for me to introduce myself. 

He started the car, but stopped short of pulling out as he got another text. 

Maybe we should get to know one another better? Then I can really fall for you.

He almost stopped breathing, then smiled as four more text came in hard and fast.

  Oh, I’m sorry. That was so inappropriate. We barely know each other and you were just being kind to me. I am so embarrassed. 

He laughed to himself. He didn’t know what she knew, or thought she knew about him based on his reputation, but this was going to be fun. He texted back: 

If you fall, I promise I’ll catch you. I can’t let a beautiful woman get hurt more than once on my watch. Get home. Text me when you’re there. 

He waited what seemed like forever but was only seconds before he got her reply. 

Will do. Drive safe.

[doctorhelena]

For the fic ask game: #20

20: Which fic have you put the most work into? Which fic have you put the least work into? Answered here!