But Words Can Wait Until Some Other Day

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/33424081.

Rating: Mature
Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply
Category: F/M
Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), What If...?
(TV 2021), Agent Carter (TV), Agent Carter (Marvel Short Film),
Captain America (Movies)
Relationship: Peggy Carter/Steve Rogers, Peggy Carter & Steve Rogers
Character: Peggy Carter, Steve Rogers, Howard Stark, James "Bucky" Barnes,
Captain Carter
Additional Tags: Episode: s01e01 What If... Captain Carter Were The First Avenger?,
What If? (Marvel Comics), Missing Scene, soft but smutty, Emotional
Sex, Light Angst, emotional tension, Fade to Black, Peggy Carter as
Captain America
Language: English
Stats: Published: 2021-08-23 Words: 1138

But Words Can Wait Until Some Other Day

by sevenlostkeys

Summary

What if Peggy and Steve hadn't been embarrassed by Howard Stark? Sweetness ensues.

Notes

See the end of the work for notes

“Pretend I’m not here.”

Howard’s sarcastic words fogged up the thin pane of glass between him and Peggy Carter and
Steve Rogers. Peggy turned her face away, trying to hide the scarlet flush that had sprung up in her
cheeks. Steve mirrored her at first, but then a bolt of courage struck him.

“If you say so, Stark,” Steve said, smirking. He jumped down from the barstool and moved
towards Peggy, catching her face in his hands and kissing her. Steve could still taste the whiskey
on her lips as she startled before returning his kiss hungrily. Steve broke the kiss then.

“Tell Bucky he has the night off,” Steve said. “I’m off to escort Captain Carter home.”

Who the bloody hell is this kid? Peggy wondered. “Though he be but little, he is fierce,” she
murmured, saluting Howard before taking Steve’s arm and walking through the crowded bar. She
could feel the gazes and whispers as they slipped away through the front door -- she might as well
have been wearing a red dress.
The night air felt cool and damp against her warm skin.

“What was that you said back in the bar?”

“Oh, it was Shakespeare. A Midsummer’s Night Dream.”

“Guess I missed that English class when I was trying to get enlisted,” Steve said, looking up at the
night sky. “Sorry for causing a fuss back there -- I just hated the idea of you being embarrassed to
be seen with me.”

“Steve, I’m not -- I couldn’t care what anyone thinks of you or me,” she said, chin jutting out
defiantly. “I know my value -- anyone else's opinion doesn’t matter.” She hailed a cab to take them
to her flat which was stationed right off base, thanks in part to Howard Stark’s pocketbook. Once
dropped off, Peggy fumbled in her jacket pocket for her door key.

“Do you think Howard and Sargent Barnes will manage on their own?” she asked.

“Well, Bucky’s great at keeping people out of trouble,” Steve managed. It was his turn to blush.

“I wager that’s all he does when it comes to you,” she teased. She beckoned him in, locking up
quickly before taking her jacket off to reveal a white starched blouse and a hint of silky chemise
underneath.

“Would you like a cuppa? Or I suppose you Americans like your coffee? I might have a tiny bit in
the larder.”

“Tea’s fine.” Steve wandered into the parlor and began building a fire in the corner fireplace, while
Peggy padded around in the kitchen looking for sugar and milk as the kettle boiled. Once the fire
was lit, Steve took in his surroundings -- posh but understated, with mahogany-tinged furniture and
a threadbare Persian rug.

“How do you take your tea?” Peggy called from the kitchen, muffling the kettle’s whistle.

“However you take yours.” His eyes focused on the map of the world over the fireplace.

Peggy appeared, steaming mugs in hand. “It’s nothing I’d serve to the Queen, but it will warm us
all the same.” She blew on her mug a bit, watching Steve take small sips.

“I see you’ve found my map. It’s the one possession that goes wherever I am. It’s to remind me
how much more of the world there is to see, once the war is over.”

She sat close to the fire, kicking her shoes off, and rubbing her feet.

“Here, let me,” Steve said, setting his tea down by the fire and kneeling beside her. His long,
slender fingers found her feet and began to massage her feet and ankles. Peggy closed her eyes and
sighed softly.

“Truly, a knight in shining armor,” she mused.

Steve’s fingers began to trace lines from her ankles to her kneecaps and the edge of her wool skirt.

“Shall we, then?”

“Are we going to dance?”

“You could say that,” she managed, offering him a hand up. She quietly led him upstairs to her
 bedroom. It was also sparse, the vanity bare save for a glossy black boar hairbrush and a gold and
red tube of lipstick.

She undid her skirt, letting it puddle to the floor before kicking it to the corner, and her blouse
joined it soon after. She sat on the edge of the bed in her underpinnings. “Well, soldier?”

Steve walked towards her, playing his slight limp off as swagger. She parted her legs so he could
get as close as he wanted. He kissed her then, hands in her chestnut hair. He pressed kisses against
her jaw and down her neck, his fingertips ghosting over her shoulder blades and back as he dipped
down between her legs.

He might not have had the brawn, but Steve Rogers knew how to use his hands and mouth, even if
that mouth often got him in trouble. He made quick work of freeing Peggy from her undergarments
while scattering firm kisses on the insides of her thighs.

“Steve…”

He looked up at her then, in the dim light, his face thin and fine-boned. She brushed a stray bit of
hair from his eyes with shaky fingers.

“Go on,” she whispered.

There was so much more she wanted to say, but she wasn’t sure this was the time or the place.
Instead, she laid back on the bed, surrendering to the feeling of his mouth on her, his hands
gripping her hips firmly. She hitched her legs over his shoulders to urge him on. She was drunk on
the feeling of him, his attentiveness that she was beginning to unravel.

He must have sensed it, too, because he slowly moved on top of her, hands snaking up over her rib
cage and breasts. She caught him by the biceps, gently flipping him over so she towered over him.

“My turn,” she said, thumbing the buttons of his jacket.

He eagerly pitched in, shimmying out of his clothes while she kissed him, her hands running down
his torso. Steve shuddered under her touch so she brought her hands up to his face, calming him
and guiding him with gentle murmurs until they were one and fell into a steady rhythm staccatoed
by their sighs and whispers. Outside, a soft rain seemed to wash away the real world, cocooning
them safely into the wee hours of the morning.

...

When Peggy woke in the late morning light, she saw Steve curled up in the corner armchair in
rumpled clothes, with a pencil and small notebook in hand, quietly sketching.

“Morning, Captain,” he teased. He gently used his fingertips to blend the rough line he’d sketched
of Peggy’s jawline. He wanted to remember her like this, her hair mussed about, her lips just so.

“Thank you for the dance, Steve.”

“Maybe next time we’ll make it to an actual dancehall.”

“Some Saturday then. I’ve heard the Stork Club is nice.”

End Notes
 What If? broke my Peggy/Steve shipper heart all over again, so enjoy this "missing scene."
I tried to weave in a few Easter eggs where I could.

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