7079/A Return to... Something Like Normalcy

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A Return to... Something Like Normalcy
Date of Scene: 26 July 2021
Location: Lounge - Playground
Synopsis: Peggy's getting back into her groove, and Steve Rogers visits the Playground to bring her some company and comfort food.
Cast of Characters: Peggy Carter, Steve Rogers




Peggy Carter has posed:
While much of SHIELD is out on a major hit on HYDRA, Peggy's holding down the fort. She *wanted* to be out there, but she knows if things would go poorly someone needs to stay behind to keep the ship running. Besides, she's got so much work and reports to catch up on she really couldn't afford more time away from her desk. However, she's been at that desk for nearly 12 hours straight today and she needed a change of scenery tonight before her eyes went cross.

It's now somewhere near midnight and the base is too quiet, everyone out on mission. She's showered, changed into her comfortable lounge robe, and made a pot of tea for herself before diving back into reports in the totally different scenery of the lounge. Her tea's neglected on the coffee table in front of her and she's deeply combing through another week of the analyst reports over the time she missed. Her hair is still damp around her newly-young features. She, in fact, looks more like she did during the war now than she has in decades. Whatever they did to save her life? It looks like it turned the years back all the way to 1949.

Steve Rogers has posed:
The soft tread of boots in the hallway outside is a little hard to place. It's a quiet stride, not quite 'cat-like' but definitely that of someone who doesn't thump their feet on the ground. It's not one of the Tac guys, either; they wear lightweight combat boots, and the hard leather soles outside sound like construction boots.

That means Steve Rogers, and Peggy's instincts are confirmed when the man himself enters the Lounge. "Don't shoot," Steve tells Peggy with a mischevious expression. "I come bearing Indian food." He lifts the paper bag in his hand, which is redolent with the scent of hot chicken tikka masala and other snacks.

He swings the bag up onto the table in front of Peggy. "Think you can take a break for dinner?" He looks at her face, the expression lingering perhaps a bit longer than it should; then again, no matter what he's been told or seen from pictures, it's a bit of a stopper to see some painfully familiar features turning up at him. As if lurching him back in time.

Peggy Carter has posed:
There is a slight tilt of her head as she hears those familiar boots and footfalls. She'd almost convinced herself it was him, but it couldn't be. She'd know if he was on base, and wasn't he sick anyway? It's just her mind and her own exhaustion playing tricks on her. But then those familiar steps enter the lounge, along with that mouth watering scent, and Peggy's dark eyes go a little wide looking up from her tablet.

"Shoot? Oh hell, I could *hug* you... I'm starved." Peg admits, her stomach grumbling an echo of agreement as all of her body only now realizes how hungry she is after working through dinner, the smell of food a good reminder.

Then she's catching that look at her face. She'd been getting it for the last few days, since the treatment was successful. No one is quite used to seeing their boss this young, but she can only imagine how it is for Steve. A slightly more shy smile flutters across her ever-red lips and she stands up, tying her robe shut just a bit tighter. "It...it's good to see you up and about. I heard you were sick?"

Steve Rogers has posed:
"You're gonna have to do better than that," Steve tells Peggy. The humor and the flashing smile defers the moment of lurching memory thrust upon him. "Mark said he'd marry me for some of the lamb tagine in here. And I'm pretty sure he's got a girlfriend."

Steve starts setting food out. It's from some kind of fusion place; a little Indian curry, some Thai, and a few other odds and ends. He sets them all out with tidy efficiency and then starts rummaging around for plates and utensils for the both of them.

"I /was/ sick," Steve corrects, and pushes a cabinet door shut with his bootheel. "You remember Dr. Macintyre-- Sam's ex? She's apparently a hemotologist. Was able to patch me up."

He walks over to the table, sets out the cutlery, and takes up a seat that shares a corner with Peggy's. "You, on the other hand, I was not ready for. I heard the briefs and all, but..." A brow lifts. "I guess some time in the Framework does a body good, yeah?"

Peggy Carter has posed:
Saving her spot on the tablet, she smoothly shuts off the screen and steps over to him with a turn of her hips. She smells fresh out of the shower too, still using the rose and vanilla powder that she has for as long as he's known her -- it's just a lot easier to get today and not in ration demand. She takes in a deep breath of the food, letting out a little groan that is almost intimate sounding. "You. You truly *are* a life saver." She steals a fork from his hands, stabbing a bit of the lamb and popping the stolen piece past her lips before even sitting down.

Her expression softens a bit as he admits to being sick. She looks him up and down for a moment then, her heart stealing against imagined illnesses no longer etched upon his skin. She's searching for any hint he's not fully himself, but not finding it. Her smile returns gently, dark eyes finally looking up to meet his blues. "I'm... sorry I couldn't help more. But thank god. You're back to looking... Fit as ever." Peggy then forces herself to look away. She might be blushing a bit. She might have been staring.

"And this is... absolutely not the Framework. More Morse and Simmons with a team that managed to steal my own damn blood back out of the Triskelion. Reverse whatever HYDRA did to me but... well, the gene therapy maybe did *too* good of a job." The mention of the Framework is an uncomfortable one. She's trying to laugh it off, dismiss the matter, but he knows her well enough to see the pinch around her eyes. The tension in her shoulders. It was a quiet hell.

Steve Rogers has posed:
"Well I know that, and you know that," Steve tells Peggy. "But if you tell Simmons-- or worse, Bobbi-- that they did good, you know what'll happen. Morse will try to assault some HYDRA compound single-handed and Simmons will engineer some kind of... medicine to make everyone look young and hale again."

The eye contact is met with a wry, easy expression, one that only Peggy and Bucky would recognize as being the bashful little remainder of who Steve Rogers used to be.

"Also, before I forget:" Steve rocks sideways in his chair to access his back pocket, and comes up with two civilian DoD ID cards. One has Peggy's face; the other, Dan's. "I'm sure you two had a romantic evening of crawling onto post through the drainage sump tunnels, but this might make it a bit easier to get in." He looks around, then leans over a few inches to look Peggy in the eye. "Uniforms for military personnel, so unless Dan wants to get called in front of the Master-At-Arms, he should probably get his service duds inspected to make sure they fit."

Peggy Carter has posed:
"Oh... Steve. You... You *really* didn't have to. You know, I've tried not to drag you and the other Avengers into this mess. The world needs you too much to turn against you all and... SHIELD is managing." Peggy takes the cards, looking over the images with a slightly wider smile, "Now, I mean, I'm not complaining. These will be incredibly useful. And we're getting Daniel recertified this week to go back into the field anyway so... Good timning." She dares to lean up and over, drag him into a proper, deep hug for a few heartbeats before they settle down for food. It feels good to have the strengh back in her arms and warmth in her skin after that week on her deathbed. She holds onto him a few moments longer than is professional, but they go too far back to be strictly professional.

"But. Enough mucking about with... feelings. There's dinner to be had." She affirms as she pulls back, her smile reasserting itself as she finally settles at the little table and starts properly dishing herself out some of the food instead of stealing things straight from the containers.

Steve Rogers has posed:
Hug accepted, and earnestly returned. A bit of it is affection, some reassurance, but it's mostly reaffirming the sort of friendship that is strong enough to persist even past the point of death.

"Sam will be there and I'm bullying Bucky into it." Asian food is best shared, so Steve ladles portions into each plate for every entree he picks up. The remainder's pushed into the middle so Peggy can get more if she likes something.

"I've been asking some of the old crew along. Kelda and Diana should be there. Bunch of guys from the 107th, the ones still alive anyway. I couldn't get hold of Jim Hammond. And I /might/ be able to talk Lucky Jimmy into joining us." He blinks, shakes his head once. "Er, Logan, I keep forgetting that's what he's going by." He shoots a side-eye at Peg. "You heard he and Buck got into it a couple weeks back, yeah?"

Peggy Carter has posed:
"Oh God. Logan. He... shit. I almost forgot, I was so out of my head. He came to visit when things looked... really awful last week. I think he even bullied the nurses into giving me some of his blood in efforts to buy a little more time. I need to *call* him. Let him know it worked. Shit. He..." Peggy's making a face that is a whole bunch of complicated expressions -- guilt, caring, a certain tenderness for Lucky Jimmy that wasn't there back during the war. "...He and I were... very close, for a while. I owe him a call."

But it's late tonight. Peggy's starving. She dives into the food with a gusto that she's always had for good, filling meals. A woman who lived on rations long enough to never take food for granted again. But probably also with the metabolism of a 28 year old again. "Still... the dance sounds fun. And... I heard about he and Logan. I think it's settled, whatever it was. Neither of them must have wanted the other dead ALL that badly, or one of them very well might be." Peggy's mostly teasing with that, her tone deadpan with just an edge of worry. "Simmons managed to get Daniel a new prosthetic, so... It'll be the first time we really have been able to dance comfortably in... Ever."

Steve Rogers has posed:
The complicated expression flies over Steve's head while he's focused on his food. Then again, those carefully constructed nuances of feelings were never something he really ever understood.

Steve winces and sits back, lowering his fork. "Awww, hell. I'm sorry Peg," he mutters. "I always forget about Dan's leg. He soldiers on so well that it's easy to think he's just got a bum knee or something. I didn't mean to put you two on the spot like that. I mean it's a military ball, not exactly the Harlem Cotton Club," Steve clarifies. "Half the guys there are geriatrics anyway. So there's no pressure, or anything."

Steve eats with his usual steady hunger; his metabolism so perfectly balanced that he only ever eats as much as he wants, which is usually not much more than what he actually needs.

Peggy Carter has posed:
"No! Goodness, no, don't be sorry. The new leg is... it feels like a miracle, really. We went on a run together for the first time in our lives and it held up just fine. I think we'll manage a good few dances with no issue." Peggy's smiling there, wide and proud. This has been one of the few bits of good news as of late and she's clinging to it with every last inch of her strength.

"Strangely... Lucky things about the mess that the Framework shoved into our heads. Daniel already knew how to use the new leg when they got it on him... And he's practically ready to get re-certified for the field immediately. 15 years of memories serving as a modern SHIELD agent meant he just got a lot of... Catching up on things downloaded into his head." Peggy's trying to smile around her food and the explanation, but it's a heavy one. Whatever she left back in that Framework is pulling on her. It doesn't quite make it to her eyes. She swallows the thought down with another bite of food.

Steve Rogers has posed:
Steve shakes his head in befuddlement. "I'm just glad you're out of there," he tells Peggy, sincerely. "Dan, too. I tried to bully one of the technicians into letting me in there to see if I could help somehow. Then I offered to start breaking things. I think someone must have called Jemma, because I got called off to handle something else. It's probably just as well, I can barely get my cell phone to work," he admits. "And I'm running out of 'well we didn't grow up with these'. I've been off the ice for long enough now you'd think I could figure it out. Every time I do, Stark releases a new one."

There's a jovial self-deprecation in his tone; the Framework's a raw nerve and Steve's clearly trying to pull pressure off of it.

Peggy Carter has posed:
"I... I am too. It's behind us now and really... Simply not worth dwelling on. I know you'd have helped if you could. But... we managed out. It's over." Peggy gives him a quieter, reassuring smile. She even pauses in her meal to stretch fingertips over to him and rest a gentle, reassuring hand against his forearm where she gives a little squeeze. Her nails are still even as red as they always have been. No matter how much work she needs to catch up, she's not letting her appearance flag in the least. It's the little things that make her feel human, put her back together. Like putting her armor on for a mission, only this mission is life.

"Is there anything I can *do* to help with the dance? I'll make certain Logan shows up. But I can make other... Phone calls, if you like? Or put together the bar? Just don't ask me to bake anything and we'll all be safe." She grins, hand withdrawing to return to her food. Apparently, she'd not gotten any better ad cooking in the last few decades.

Steve Rogers has posed:
"Just show up, be your usual charming self," Steve bids Peggy with a grin. "Ji-- Logan might need a nudge to get there but I'm sure I can rope the rest on. I had to call in a few favors to use the base ballroom," he admits. "I've got a couple pleasant surprises arranged for people, and they'd want you to be there."

"I just want us all to have one night where nothing goes wrong," he admits, a little dryly. "So it's a moratorium on work talk, aliens, military matters, or HYDRA. I'm pretty sure I've got some of Thor's mead in the mansion's wine cellar still. Hence the free bar. I figure if it starts to turn boring, then at least we can all get equally miserable and drunk together," he grins.

Peggy Carter has posed:
The comment about one night where nothing goes wrong gets a levelled look from her and a slightly deeper smirk, "You know, you say that too often and you're going to jinx it. Though, hell, Steve... without aliens, work talk, military matters or HYDRA... What do I talk about? I... Hell, even when I was dying on my back last week, I was working until the end. It's... It's been my entire life." Peggy admits softly, genuinely a little intimidated at the thought that she won't be able to have work to talk about. It's been her only escape for years and years.

Steve Rogers has posed:
"It's kind of how we cope," Steve allows. "I got Doc Cho to come up with an inhaler for whatever bug Zola jabbed me with. I wasn't keen on keeling over from a bioweapon."

"And also, Janet is probably the worst caretaker ever," he admits. "I'm either being force-fed homeopathic remedies, or she's kicking me out of bed for coughing too hard and waking her up. I figured the sooner I got over the bug, the sooner life could go back to normal."

Peggy Carter has posed:
"It *is* how we cope. Hell, the only reason Daniel and I work so damn well together is because we're both married to the job as much as each other. Though I know he's going stir crazy not being certified for the field here. He's just ready to get back out there... for as long as we have him." Peg's smile softens a bit more as he admits that Janet's an awful care taker. She laughs a bit behind a bite of her food, shaking her head.

"I'd prefer you never be sick *again* but, next time it happens, just come over here. Daniel makes the best soup and is incredibly good at taking care of stubborn, overworked SSR agents who like to pretend they are invincible. Not that I would know anyone like that but... I suspect he is." Peggy winks at him. "But you...truly are feeling better? No side effects or the like?"

Steve Rogers has posed:
"Fit as a fiddle," Steve promises. "Woke up the next day, ran a couple laps around Central Park. By the end of the weak I was... eatin' bullets and spittin' lead." He flashes a devil-may-care grin, one honed for the stage persona of Captain America rather than The Man with the Plan himself.

He clears his plate and starts getting up, tidying up the foot into containers that can fit in the fridge in the lounge. "At least Bucky and Sam are moving out. Bucky's gonna take a berth in the Mansion, see... see if we can't help him find some footing. Natasha wasn't wild about it, but Natasha's not really a fan of anything that triggers her paranoia. We'll see how it goes. At least him and Sam are outta my apartment. I've been staying at Janet's; three guys in a two-bed Brookyln place is a little crowded, even if you're used to sleeping in a foxhole."

Peggy Carter has posed:
"Oh *god*. I hadn't realized he'd gone to *your* place, and with Sam? Oh hell, Steve, if I'd known... well, I'm pretty sure the Brooklyn safe house is still there. I haven't used it since Underwood bugged the whole place, but Logan never minds people staying over. Anyway, no matter now. The mansion will be good for him. I... I think he does need to figure out his footing without some massive government organization looming over him. Even if it's *my* organization, it's still... It's too close to what he was doing before. Just... don't both of you be strangers, alright? I feel like we... just got our lives back. A second chance. All of us. I don't... want to waste it."

After that little heart to heart revalation, Peggy's eyes drop and she scoops up the plates from the table, moving to handle the dishes while he's putting away the left overs. Chief or not, she still pulls her weight around this place and always will. There's no job too dirty or low. She's also stifling a momentary yawn now, the food settled comfortably in her stomach and now the exhaustion starting to kick in after a 12 hour work day.

Steve Rogers has posed:
"C'mon, Peg, after what we went through?" There's a bantering note to Steve's voice. "We've had to share one too many outhouses with drafty roofs. After the Somme, I don't think any of us can say we're 'strangers' ever again."

He puts the food away in the fridge with that same sense of neatness that would be fussy except for his consideration for ever. Steve walks up behind Peggy while she's washing up at the sink. He rests hands on her shoulders, then squeezes his forearms across her collarbone. He holds it the hug for a long few a beats, not saying anything or remarking on her stress or exhaustion. Just momentarily creating a little barrier between her and the world that presses in so ruthlessly around her.

He breaks when she finally undoes that tiny knot of tension between her shoulderblades, and steps back with a silent inquiry in his sky-blue eyes: better now?

Peggy Carter has posed:
The tension is definitely there. Something Peggy hides so well from the world, but he knows her better than almost anyone. Ber breath catches in her throat as she feels the strength of his arms coming across her collarbones and she goes deadly quiet for several heartbeats. She silently dries her hands before bringing them up to rest over top of his arms and just holding on tightly for several moments. Her eyes press shut against a sudden stinging of tears she doesn't dare want to let herself cry. She holds onto his arms a bit tighter.

Eventually, the knot goes. Her breath shakes a bit as she pulls in another, deeper drag of air and turns back to face him. Her dark eyes are still glassy with those unshed tears, but whatever happened has clearly put her through the wringer. She's just not really let it show until now. "T-thank you... Steve. I... should probably consider... Bed. Dinner was lovely."

Steve Rogers has posed:
Steve notices the tears but elects not to be seen observing them. Because Peggy's a hardass woman who always has her shit together and would never get caught crying in the Lounge.

So when she turns the hug closes on her again. He's not the best hugger in the world, but one would be hard-pressed to find anywhere that felt safer for just those few moments.

It lasts a few seconds longer than would be strictly appropriate. And if anyone mentioned the damp spots on his shirt collar, he'd simply tell them they were imagining it. Once Peggy's got herself sorted Steve kisses the crown of her head, above her temple, and only then disengages.

"This weekend. You, me, Janet, Dan-- we'll drink, we'll dance, we'll see if we can get Diana and Kelda to mud wrestle or something." It's such a ridiculously lewd proposition that it can't possibly have been said by Captain America-- and from the dancing twinkle in his true-blue eyes, the low humor's clearly intended to jar Peggy's brain back into control of the wheel. "Be there?"

Peggy Carter has posed:
The hug is returned. Peggy's got new strength to her arms and uses every inch of it to cling to her oldest friend. She leans there, letting her breath come a little unevenly for a few moments as she does dampen his collar. It helps, even if they aren't talking about it. To fall apart for just a few moments helps. She's already putting herself back together by the time he's pulled away.

A crackled little laugh escapes her lips as he mentions that mud wrestling. The joke has definitely done it's job. "Steven Grant Rogers, such ideas. No one would believe me if I told on you, not the red white and blue man like you." Peggy teases him gently, but it helps. She squeezes his shoulder one more time, her smile genuine, "Wouldn't miss it for the world. See you then, Steve." And with that, she turns to scoop up her tablet and tea cup, no longer returning to work. Her bed calls, tonight. She might even get a decent night's sleep after that hug.