Consequences

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/25592923.

Rating: Mature
Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply
Category: F/M, M/M
Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Marvel, Agent Carter (TV), Agent Carter
(Marvel Short Film)
Relationship: Peggy Carter/Jack Thompson, Daniel Sousa/Jack Thompson, Peggy
Carter/Daniel Sousa, Peggy Carter & Daniel Sousa & Jack Thompson,
Peggy Carter/Daniel Sousa/Jack Thompson
Character: Peggy Carter, Daniel Sousa, Jack Thompson (Marvel), Vernon Masters
Additional Tags: Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con,
Implied Sexual Content, vernon masters is the actual scum of the earth
and i despise him, Protective Peggy Carter, Protective Daniel Sousa,
Protective Jack Thompson, Nightmares
Language: English
Series: Part 127 of Quarantine Drabbles, Part 6 of Something Comforting About
The Number Three
Stats: Published: 2020-07-29 Words: 1465

Consequences
by TheAsexualofSpades

Summary

There are always consequences. Whether you can see them or not. Sometimes they're
enough to keep you in line. Sometimes they aren't.

Notes

tryna muddle through the mess s2 left us in ain't easy but we trying. had to get these guys
over the hump before we can start anything else

See the end of the work for more notes

Fandom: Marvel

Prompt: Hi! I absolutely love your works, and I was just wondering if there were going to be more
more works to this series or if this was the last one? Keep up the fantastic work! You're so
talented!! - dani_girl7
The thing about it was that Jack knew he could’ve stopped it.

He could’ve left. He could’ve made an excuse. He wouldn’t have been stopped. It probably
wouldn’t have been mentioned ever again.

But there would have been consequences. People could’ve gotten hurt. The SSR could’ve been
hurt. He had to pay his dues, keep the purse open. Do what the others wouldn’t do for the greater
good. That was the point of the SSR, wasn’t it? Doing what needed to be done for the good of the
world?

He also knows he’s a coward. There are consequences that would affect him, only him. And those
ones terrify the hell out of him. And it’d be too easy to just…stay here. Let what’s been working
for so long keep working.

Big muckety-muck of the next big thing.

The Golden Boy.

Jackie-Boy.

Pretty.

He wakes up with a gasp, his hand over his chest, aching like he’s just been fucking shot again. He
swings his legs out. Lands hard on his feet. Immediately falls back because he’s still recovering
from being shot. Hunches over with a hand on his chest. Presses hard. Hard. Harder.

“Jack? Jack!”

“Jack, can we come in?”

Jack swallows. Clenches his jaw. “Yeah.”

The lock turns. The door opens. Peggy and Daniel stand in the doorway, obviously holding each
other back. Jack gives them a small smile.

“Hey.”

“Hey, Jack,” Daniel says softly, “can, uh, can we come in?”

“Already said you could. didn’t I?”

Peggy slips around Daniel and makes for the bed, falling to her knees at Jack’s side, her hand
replacing his on his chest. “Are you alright? Do we need to take you to the hospital?”

“Chest’s fine.”

Peggy raises an eyebrow as Daniel sits on the bed next to him. She nods at his hand, still pressed
hard to his sternum.

“It’s fine,” Jack repeats, “I just—it—“

She seems to understand, at any rate, carefully prying Jack’s hand away from his chest and
replacing it with her own, pressing firmly enough that the weight helps him breathe but not too
much that it hurts. He shudders as Daniel starts lightly rubbing his back.

“Nightmare?”

Jack nods. Not for the first time that day, he thanks whatever higher power there may be that he’s
with these two. They understand nightmares, even if they’re not his.

“Would you like to talk about it or be distracted from it?”

Jack shuts his eyes tight. He wants to have this demon ripped out of his head, that’s what he wants.
A softer hand takes his and starts running a thumb over his knuckles. He opens his eyes to see
Peggy’s bright red nails and his own white knuckles. He didn’t even realize he was holding on so
tightly.

They’ve initiated all the handholding so far, his turn. He glances over at Daniel, willing his other
hand to stop shaking as he slowly turns it palm up, laying on his knee, hoping it’ll be enough.

Daniel’s hand is warm. So warm.

“It won’t leave this room,” Daniel murmurs, "not if you don’t want it to.”

Jack huffs a laugh. “Wish I could believe that.”

“...Jack?”

Ah. Right. That probably came out wrong.

“Not you two,” Jack sighs, “I know…I know you’d keep it secret.”

Peggy relaxes a little, still looking worried. He takes another deep breath.

It’s late. He has no idea what time it is. Peggy must’ve turned on the bedside lamp as she came in.
It bathes the room in soft light, letting it chase away some of the shadows. He feels a little like a
kid again, his parents coming in to tell him the monster under the bed isn’t real.

He wants to say something. Anything. Just to get himself talking. But he doesn't know how to start
or where to start and if he starts he’s not sure he can stop.

This is stupid, just fucking talk, you know how.

What’s the point in you having a voice if you’re not going to use it?
Or are you too much of a coward?

“Jack,” Daniel calls softly, “Jack, look at me.”

He can’t say no to Daniel. He looks. Daniel’s staring at him all soft features and concerned
expressions, holding Jack’s hand like he’s something precious.

Pretty, isn’t he?

Jack’s eyes slam shut and he growls. Daniel squeezes his hand tightly.

“Whatever it’s saying,” Peggy’s voice says sharply, “do not listen to it. You stay here with us, Jack
Thompson.”

Yes, ma’am. He forces his eyes open, staring at nothing, fighting to stay here, now, holding onto
their hands like it’s a lifeline.

“Good,” Peggy says, “now, Daniel and I have…an idea about what’s been happening.”

“We wanna help, Jack,” Daniel says quietly, “and we’re gonna need you to let us. If you want.”

Jack wants. He wants so badly it might just kill him.

“Okay,” Daniel murmurs, “can I ask you a question?”

“…you just did, didn’t you?”

“Fair enough,” he laughs, “can I ask you another after this one?”
Jack nods.

“Does this have anything to do with what happened on the couch a few weeks ago?”

Right.

The best and worst day since Jack got out of the hospital. The day he almost ruined absolutely
everything and the day Peggy and Daniel welcomed him into their lives. Properly.

Peggy still tastes like warm Bergamont.

Daniel still tastes like cinnamon.

A desperate part of him wants to know if he still tastes like New York rain.

Jack nods, trying not to pull away, brush it off, say he’s fine. He…they’re so warm, they’re so kind.
If he shuns their kindness…

Consequences. It’s always about consequences, isn’t it?

While he’s been having his crisis, Peggy and Daniel seem to have been doing that thing where they
have an entire conversation without saying a single word out loud, because when he tunes back in,
Peggy’s murmuring something about a drink—nonalcoholic—and leaving with a kiss on Jack’s
forehead. Daniel takes his other hand and pulls him close, resting their foreheads together. It’s soft
and it’s tender and there’s so much intimacy wrapped up in the gesture that Jack doesn’t know how
to deal with it. He’s never had…this. Never had softness, never had tenderness, not like this.

No, you never minded it rough, did you, Jackie-Boy?

He can’t help the twitch in his jaw.

“Shh,” Daniel soothes when he feels Jack’s hands clench, “I’m right here. Peggy’s on her way
back, it’ll be alright.”
Sure enough, Peggy returns a few moments later with steaming mugs. She sets on down on the
bedside table for Daniel and carefully cups Jack’s fingers around another. She keeps the third one
for herself, sitting on the footstool she drags over.

“It’s just tea,” she says, taking a sip of her own, “non-caffeinated.”

Jack takes a sip reflexively, only to find out that…well, it’s mostly tea.

Peggy winks at him over the rim of her mug and he smiles at her. God, he loves that woman.

“When I was in the army,” Peggy says, startling both of them, “I was told that it would be…easier
for me to do my job if I stayed where I was good.”

Jack frowns. Peggy…she looks scared.

“They told me it would be easier,” she murmurs into her mug, “easier than being…back at home.
Because everyone would be too busy fighting to…do anything else.”

She swallows. “They were wrong.”

She looks up and her eyes burn. “They tried to tell me it would be easier because of how the
command structure was set up. That it would be easier one everyone if I just…went along.”

Jack’s mouth almost drops open.

“My sisters told me,” Daniel says, causing Jack to whip his head around, “that you can pretty much
always tell from looking at how they look at other people. I…I didn’t really know what they were
talking about until I saw how one of my COs looked at me after I lost my leg.”

No. No, no, no, not Daniel. Not Peggy.

 They both let him pull them closer, into a tight hug until all of their arms hurt and the protective
beasts in their chests have been sated.

Jack swallows heavily.

Then he tells them.

He tells them everything.

Vernon Masters made his home in dark corners and shadows, where the shame and horror kept
him safe.

No more. Not again.

There are always consequences, even after you’re dead.

End Notes

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