Professional Documents
Culture Documents
Summary
***
In a world of black, white, grey, and navy suits, red stands out. None more so than Peggy
Carter.
Notes
be yourself. unless you can be peggy carter then always be peggy carter
It’s such a pure embodiment of Peggy Carter that he can’t help but smile every single time he sees
it. Even if it’s just in its hatbox or perched on a shelf, it never fails to make him light up.
There’s just something so wonderful about the bright red color. It’s bold, it’s here, it says ‘shut up
and let me do my job.’ When Peggy wears it, it might as well be a crown, for how powerful it
makes her look.
Peggy is a powerful woman, and anyone who doesn’t know that is about to get it beaten into them
six ways to Sunday. Not that Peggy needs to do that, she’s got her own shit to do. Everyone else is
just gonna get interrupted by how freaking awesome she looks doing it. When Peggy walks down
the street, she doesn’t give a damn what anyone else thinks of her. She’s Daniel’s hero. She better
be everyone else’s hero at the SSR, if you ask him, look at the amount she’s done!
Also she ran her own, more successful investigation behind all of their backs and none of them
realized, so take that.
He asked her where she got it once when they first worked a late night case, watching her set it
carefully on a coat hook and smooth the brim.
“Oh, somewhere,” she replied offhandedly, much more focused on the case at hand—which he
should be—than her hat.
“I like it,” Daniel had said, trying for casual and knowing he’s failing miserably.
“Like what?”
“The hat.”
“No problem.”
“Yes, so—“
He’s not sure if it’s a direct correlation or if it’s just because he’s looking for it now, but he notices
Peggy start wearing it more often.
Rose catches him for lunch one day, taking his arm as they make their way down the street to this
little family-owned deli that has the best pulled roast beef sandwiches Daniel’s ever had. They talk
about work—in the classified manner, obviously—the new picture coming out that Rose has gone
to see, the new mystery book Daniel’s reading, and inevitably, the conversation turns to Peggy.
“So,” Rose says, dabbing at her mouth with a napkin, “how’re you and Peg doing?”
Daniel doesn’t quite choke on his water but it’s close. Very close. “The hell d’you mean by that?
We’re not together.”
“No?” Rose hides a smirk behind the rim of her glass. “Could’ve sworn you promised to ask her
out after that whole Stark nonsense.”
“I did,” Daniel protests, feeling the tips of his ears burn bright red, “she turned me down.”
“You,” Rose says sternly, pointing a finger at Daniel over their half-eaten sandwiches, “better tell
me exactly what happened that day and if it doesn’t line up with Peggy’s, you’ve got some
explaining to do.”
“Alright, alright, I will—“ Daniel pauses, the second half of Rose’s threat—that was a threat, okay,
especially coming from Rose Roberts—finally making it through to his brain. “Wait, what do you
mean ‘line up with Peggy’s?’”
Rose rolls her eyes. “Unlike the rest of you, apparently,” she says, “Peggy and I talk. Like normal
humans.”
“Maybe not,” Rose says airily, “but that doesn’t mean we don’t communicate.”
Rose narrows her eyes. “Mr. Sousa, are you asking if Peggy and I gossip about you?”
“What?” Daniel splutters, almost knocking over his glass. “No, no, that’s not—why would you
think that’s what I—“
“Because we do.”
“You what?”
“Keep it down,” Rose chides playfully over another dainty sip of her water, “I don’t think you
rattled all the tooth fillings in this place yet.”
Daniel takes a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves. “Well, if you stopped giving me heart attacks
every two seconds, it would be easier.”
“Oh, please,” Rose says, setting her glass aside, “I’m just teasing.”
“Can you…stop?”
“Depends.”
“…on what?”
Daniel groans, the reminder from his brain that they are in a public place—a respectable restaurant
at that—the only thing keeping him from slamming his forehead into the table. “You’re making it
sound like it’s some big scandalous thing,”
“Is it not?”
“It is not,” Daniel says from where his head is—much more respectably—buried in his hand, “and
you know it.”
Rose giggles, reaching across the table to pat his arm. “Come on, spill.”
Daniel sighs. “It was after Thompson took credit for everything and I got…upset.”
“Mhm.”
“I, uh, then Peggy said that she didn’t need any recognition from anyone else.” Daniel smiles, the
memory of Peggy Carter, standing in the middle of the SSR office, looking every bit the hero that
needed no one to tell her what to do. “She knows her value. Everyone else’s opinion doesn’t really
matter.”
“Hey,” Rose says, kicking his leg under the table, “get on with it, starry-eyes.”
Daniel blinks. “And then I…said I was getting a drink. After work. Asked if she wanted to join
me.”
“And...?”
“I don’t know, Rose, jeez, um—“ Daniel runs a hand through his hair, racking his brain to try and
remember Peggy’s exact words— “she said maybe some other time. She hadda…meet a friend.”
Daniel ignores the mild ache that shoots through his chest in favor of dropping his hand and
glaring at Rose. “Now would you mind telling me why I’m being interrogated over a perfectly
good sandwich?”
“I don’t think that was as much of a ‘no’ as you think it was, Daniel,” Rose says, smile growing,
“seriously.”
“Try again,” she encourages, “really. You might get a different answer.”
Should I?
No, no, what are you talking about? I’m great friends with Peggy, that’s more than enough.
But you could be more!
“Just…think about it?” She takes his hand and gives it a squeeze. “Promise?”
“Good.” She sits up straight and frowns at the rest of her sandwich. “Now, no more talking. We
have food to finish.”
“Rose!”
“Shush. Eating.”
Peggy is…bemused at best when Rose links her arm through hers and insists they’re going out for
a cup of tea.
“Rose, I’m more than happy to—“
“No buts, Peggy,” Rose says, wagging her finger, “I’ve gotten Ms. Martinelli in on this too.”
“Hey, English!” Peggy groans internally when she sees Angie coming down the sidewalk. Angie
loops her arm through Peggy’s free one, Rose seizing her momentary distraction to take Peggy’s
briefcase. “Just got off my shift, let’s go!”
“I don’t even know where we’re going,” Peggy protests, letting herself get dragged down the street
towards a waiting car. “What is—“
“Mr. Jarvis,” Peggy responds, still highly confused, “what on earth is going on?”
“I’ve been summoned by Ms. Roberts,” Mr. Jarvis explains as he opens the door for her.
“Apparently, you’re to be having something of a ‘girl’s night.’”
“I’m what?”
Peggy looks to Jarvis pleadingly, hoping he’ll provide at the very least some clarification if not an
excuse out of this, but he’s no help. He simply sees that she’s sat down and gets Rose and Angie
into the back, hopping delightedly back into the driver’s seat and ferrying them all back to the
Stark residence. He leaves them all at the gate with a jaunty wave.
“Relax, Peg,” Angie says, leading her to the living room, “we just wanna hang out with you.”
“And that involves practically kidnapping me?”
“Oh please,” Rose says, sitting down next to a tea set with plenty of little dishes—oh, they have
planned this— “I hardly think it woudl be so easy to kidnap you.”
“Yeah, English.” Angie bumps her hip against Peggy’s. “You’ve got one hell of a right hook.”
“Alright, alright,” Peggy says, accepting defeat and sitting down, “I’m here for…a girl’s night, or
whatever.”
“Come on, Peg, you have to have had a girl’s night before!” Angie flings herself onto the couch.
Peggy props her head on her hand, accepting the cup of tea Rose passes her way. “Oh, well now let
me think…it might’ve been back before I joined the SOE.”
“I know, I know…it was back with the other code breakers. They were formidable women.”
“Like you!”
Rose giggles when a light pink blush dusts the tops of Peggy’s cheeks. “Peg doesn’t get
complimented very often, apparently.”
“I wouldn’t say that,” Peggy says, only to frown when Rose makes a noise of disbelief. “Rose!”
“I’m just saying if we had an agency made of more of you and less of them,” Rose says, “we’d be a
lot better.”
“They’re not all awful,” Peggy defends, “some of them are perfectly reasonable.”
“Agent Smith is an excellent detective and is more than capable of handling an investigation.”
“And?”
“And?”
“Rose, what—“
“And?” Angie picks up, smiling cheekily at Peggy. “What? You used to only complain about your
coworkers, give a girl something else!”
Peggy sighs. “This really isn’t that big of a deal, they are suitable for the job. They wouldn’t be
here if they weren’t. The majority of them are acceptable.”
“But there’s none of them you think are more than acceptable?”
“Oh, I see where this is going.” Peggy sets the teacup aside. “Are you asking me if I fancy any of
my coworkers?”
“Yep.”
“Angie!”
“Really? Never, not once, not even just to entertain yourself? Like a ‘ooh, what if?’ Nothing?”
“Liar.”
“I am not.”
“Sure you are.” She nudges Angie. “Look at how she’s fidgeting more.”
“Rose!”
“What?” Rose blinks innocently. “Are you saying I shouldn’t help you teach your roommate how
to tell when someone’s lying?”
“Who is it, Peg,” Angie asks devilishly, “who caught your eye?”
Her face falls. “It’s not tall blond and stuck-up, is it?”
“What?”
“One I cried on when they came lookin’ for you at the Griffith,” Angie says, “who calls his
grandmother Gam-Gam.”
“He calls his grandmother Gam-Gam?” Peggy looks up to see Rose filing that information away
for good use.
“No, it’s…” Peggy takes a deep breath. “It’s the other one.”
Angie’s eyes light up. “Tall dark and stormy? The one with the pretty eyes?”
Peggy shoots a glance at Rose only to realize yes, Rose knows exactly who Angie’s talking about.
She winces.
“Ooh, I liked him!” Angie claps her hands excitedly. “He seems nice.”
“You…you’ve met him for all of a few minutes while he was interrogating you.”
“Oh for the love of—“ Peggy buries her face in her hands as Rose and Angie burst into peals of
laughter. “We are colleagues and friends, nothing more.”
“Rose?”
Rose is still laughing a little too hard to answer, thank the lord, but Angie stares determinedly at
Peggy.
“Angie—“
“Look, Peg, getting you to talk about guys is like pulling teeth.” Angie sits up properly on the sofa.
“If he seems nice, why don’t you ask him out for a drink or somethin’?”
Angie’s eyes grow wide as Rose says it. “And you didn’t tell me?”
“It was the same night we moved in,” Peggy defends, “I couldn’t let you move in by yourself!”
“Move in, schmoove in,” Angie says, flapping a hand, “Peggy, you got asked out on a date, that’s
great!”
“Well, I…” Peggy swallows, the blush back on her cheeks. “I expect that ship has sailed. I did
refuse.”
Peggy has to take a breath, her brain still reeling. Does…does she like Daniel?
Unbidden, an image of him swims to the forefront of her mind. She takes a moment to look, really
look.
Oh.
Oh, bugger.
“Oh, Peg!” Angie claps her hands. “What’re you gonna wear?”
“He will.”
Angie just gives her a look. “Peg, it’s you. He’ll ask. So, what’re you gonna wear? Ooh, does he
have a favorite thing of yours?”
Peggy’s about to protest that this is all nonsense, there’s no guarantee Daniel will ask, and even if
he did, he’s only ever seen her in her work clothes, and there’s nothing he’s ever—
oh.
Oh.
Oh.
There’s a picture on their mantelpiece. Both of their faces are slightly exasperated, obviously not
understanding why a photo is being taken. If one comes close enough to the frame, their protests
can practically be heard, if not for the squealing of the actress behind the camera.
Peggy’s red hat is perched atop her head, a red carnation tucked into Daniel’s suit.
When people ask what it’s from, they say it’s their first date. Well, no.
Peggy says it’s their first date. Daniel still argues that their first date came weeks later when he
actually asked permission to court her properly. Peggy rolls her eyes and says that it’s just
semantics at that point. Daniel will insist she’s worth enough to do it properly. And really, who’s
going to argue with that?
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