#TeamCarter

The steady tha-thump, tha-thump, tha-thump of his heartbeat under her ear stood in juxtaposition to the wild and syncopated rhythm of her own. If she was honest with herself she would admit her heart had been racing since the moment he turned up on her doorstep, but she wasn’t, so she didn’t.

She had barely had time to accept he wasn’t a dream and was really there in her arms, when they were being whisked back to a future in chaos. Okay, so maybe her heart had been racing since the moment he had returned. He had kissed her breathless, they had time travelled, and then they had fought against extra-dimensional forces threatening to tear the multiverse apart.

Now she was standing in the middle of a badly damaged ballroom, floating with him just a few inches off of the ground. Somewhere between points A and B she had been imbued with… something, and the frenetic pace that they’d been keeping had only slowed down in the last few days. He’d found her easily, the wracking sobs from her exhausted state drew him to her. She was so tired, so hungry, so changed. He didn’t say anything, just took her in his arms and anchored her to reality.

She wasn’t sure when their feet had left the ground, or how, but the weightlessness had calmed her. It was now just the nearness of him that had her heart beating fast.

They were both far too bruised and bloodied for anything more than the stillness they found themselves in. The small drip of blood at her brow had dried long ago, and the bruises that mottled her torso and arms had already reached that state of yellows and deep purples as they healed. He didn’t look much better, his jawline swollen and cut behind his messy beard, a smear of his own blood dried on the arm of his suit. They floated gently back down to the ground when she picked her head up, hypervigilant to the sound of the approaching footsteps.

He instinctively shielded her, turning them so her back was to the wall. She felt the fire flick within the palms of her hands as she stepped back in his shadow and into a fighting stance. It was just Natasha though and they both relaxed as she stepped into the light.

The redhead looked only marginally better than the rest of them, only because she’d found some running water and scrubbed away most of the grime on her face. She was clutching a few arrows in her hand, having picked them up as she picked her way through the building. “Bruce found survivors. East side.”

Steve gave her a silent nod and turned back to Peggy. He kissed first her forehead and then her lips, lingering at each spot. He felt a warmth in his chest where her palms lay, and then a spark as the warmth began to rapidly spread over him. Over them. The swelling and tenderness in his jaw was gone when he pulled away, and the cut above her eyebrow had vanished, leaving only the small trail of dried blood as evidence. He gave her another kiss, harder this time, and then tangled his fingers up in hers.

Together they jogged off towards what was left of the eastern side of the building, and found Professor Hulk carefully removing debris piece by piece.

Peggy gave Steve’s hand a squeeze and then left him standing by as she went about ten feet further back and knelt down. She bowed her head and laid both of her hands in the wet grass. When she looked back up her eyes were glowing a vibrant shade of green, and a series of thick tree-like roots began to come up out of the soil. They snaked quickly over the grass and into the debris, lifting and stabilizing it, allowing the rest of them to begin hauling the survivors out of what had been the basement. She nodded to Steve as he looked to her for permission to enter, and he went in to sweep for anyone who was too injured to move themselves.

He returned empty handed and called an all-clear out to her.

She bowed her head again and the roots began to untangle from the debris and retreat toward her. When she lifted her hands from the earth her eyes returned to normal, and she sat back to breathe heavily. That end of the building finished collapsing in on itself as Steve and Bruce both ran over to her, helping her back up to her feet.

“Nice work.”

Peggy gave Bruce a tired smile and leaned heavily into Steve’s side. Together they made their way over to where the medics were filing out of a quinjet with supplies, setting up triage. He left her sitting with Wanda, who was tending to her own battle wounds. She lay her hand gently on top of Wanda’s shoulder and looked at her with a soft pale green glow in her eyes. The bleeding wound had healed itself in a matter of seconds, leaving a very surprised witch in its wake.

“Amazing. Thank you.”

Peggy nodded at her and rose to her feet, making her way into the closest group of huddled survivors. She found the most badly injured and spoke softly to them as she stroked their arms, using what energy she had remaining to begin the physical healing processes for them.

When Steve found her again she was sitting in the middle of a ring of small children, crafting flowers out of thin air for them. She’d started a fire nearby, and twisted the breeze to carry more of the heat toward their tiny frames. Just keeping them occupied so that they could retain some semblance of their innocence during the night’s traumatic events. He gave her a soft smile and a wave when she noticed him.

After the children were all collected Steve pulled her up to her feet, and practically lugged her toward their ride to the helicarrier hovering somewhere above them. Once they were aboard the ship, they only stopped long enough to strip out of their shoes and dirty clothes before tumbling into the bed to sleep. They slept wrapped around each other for the better part of the next day, emerging, freshly showered, well into the afternoon.

“You were pretty great out there last night,” Steve said quietly, as they ate a well deserved meal tucked into each other in the corner by themselves. “Your powers keep growing.”

“Much to my surprise,” she answered wryly, twirling her fork idly between her fingers. “It’s a lot more intuitive than I imagined it would be. I seem to just know what to do.” She took his hand and held it palm up in front of her, then began swirling her fingers in the air above it. She smiled at him as snow began to fill his hand.

“Cold. Did we.. fly? last night?”

“Mmm, sort of? More of a levitation than flight. I think?”

“Do you think it’s chaos magic? Like Wanda? Or is it mystical?” he asked, punctuating his question with a forkful of food.

She swirled her drink and watched as the water began to slowly ice over, freezing the whirlpool in place. “Nature. The elements. I feel a very strong connection to them.”

He nodded as he chewed.

“Steve?”

He looked up at her.

“You’ve got rice in your beard, darling.”

He wiped his face off and pressed a kiss against her cheek. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” she replied without hesitation, turning to kiss him more thoroughly. “Can we go back to bed?”

“Do you believe in love at first sight, or should I walk by again?”

Peggy groaned out loud and turned her chair to face the other direction, work and all.

He frowned and headed back off to the other side of the room, more than a little dejected.

He shrugged at his friend and sat down heavily.

She made the mistake of letting her guard down and letting the chair spin back to it’s starting position while she read.

“Are you a magician? Because I’m looking at you and you’ve made everyone else disappear?”

She raised one warning eyebrow at him.

He was smart enough to o quickly retreat once more.

He was back again the moment she put her work down.

“Ya know, if I had a nickel for every time I saw someone as beautiful as you, I’d have five cents.”

She softened a bit at that one, but didn’t let it show. “You’re relentless.”

“Go ahead, feel my shirt. It’s made of boyfriend material.”

She thumped him across the chest and turned her chair away from him again.

He grinned at the back of her head and turned her chair back around to face him. “Can I borrow a kiss? I promise I’ll give it back later.”

She sighed and sank back into the seat defeated. “What have you clowns been over there betting on?”

“How many pick up lines it would take for you to hit me. I won.”

“Mmmm, I see.” She raised her eyebrows in amusement and hooked her fingers in the collar of his shirt. “What’s your prize?”

“Hopefully a kiss from you. He’s gonna watch the kid on Friday night though. Well, I imagine it’s going to be more Nat watching the kid than him.” He leaned down so that he was bracing himself on the armrests of her chair. “So what do you say? Do you have room in your mouth for an extra tongue?”

She rolled her eyes and pushed his face away. “You were so close.”

“Well kiss me if I’m wrong, but dinosaurs still exist right?”

“Where has he found all of these terrible lines, Steve? They’re just awful.”

“You didn’t kiss me,” he said with a pout.

“You’re a dinosaur, Steve,” she answered slowly.

“You gotta stop hanging out with Nat.”

“And you’ve gotta stop hanging out with Bucky. We both know neither of those things is ever going to happen.”

“Yeah, well, 70 years on ice left me with a lot of catching up to do, but I’m still more interested in starting with you.”

She huffed out a laugh at him. “Bloody hell, you’ve got to stay off of the internet.”

He just smiled in return.

She made eye contact with Bucky as she reached out brushed her hand across her husband’s groin before turning back to Steve. “I see you have a weapon made of the hardest material on Earth. And you also have that shield.”

Bucky gagged audibly before scrambling out of her office.

Peggy laughed and gave Steve a quick kiss. “Let me up and we can go home for lunch.”

“And fondue?”

Steve leaned back on the bench and tugged Peggy more firmly into his side. It was chilly, the sort of chilly that used to keep him awake at night after he had first been thawed out, though anymore he didn't really pay it much attention. He could smell the snow in the air, threatening to begin its fall at any moment. It mixed in the air with the scent of her subtle perfume. The one she only wore on date night.

They'd had dinner at a little restaurant Ana Jarvis had told them about, tucked away in a back corner booth. They'd conversed about nothing over their main course, and conversed even less over dessert. They had walked after that, looking in shop windows at Christmas displays. He tucked away the name of the shop she had lingered at, peering past the window decoration at the stock inside. Their walk found them back near their car-- Howard's car, he'd insisted upon it.

It amused Steve how alike Howard and his son were, even if Tony would have rather wrestled with a bear than admit it. He'd been smart enough to never tell Tony that, but now he sometimes wonders if he should have. They'd had the driver let them off at the small park nestled in the heart of their neighborhood, just a few minutes walk from their home. The city was never this quiet, Brooklyn was never this quiet. He finally understood the phrase sleepy little suburb.

They'd strolled most of the way through the little park when they'd found the empty bench by the pond. A pond that would soon be frozen over enough to skate on. She'd told him once about going skating with her brother in the village, and how patient he'd been. How he had held onto both of her hands tightly as he pulled her slowly across the slick surface, dusted her off when she fell, and cheered louder than anyone when she had pushed off on her own the first time. He'd immediately imagined teaching their little girl how to skate. Her in a bright red stocking cap pulled down tightly over her ears and tied at the chin, and him in matching a scarf pulled tightly around his neck. Her cheeks pink with excitement and cold, her mother right beside him radiant as ever.

Maybe this pond? Maybe another? Perhaps they'd move to England one day. Wherever she was, whenever she was, that's where he was going to be. She had hugged him tightly around the middle, rising up to press a quick peck to his lips, before pulling him over to the bench to sit. He stumbled along behind her; her kisses always caught him off guard. Each one still left him reeling, even though he got to do it multiple times a day. He used to tell people it was okay to move on, to continue feeling things after heavy loss, but she was the one thing he could never get beyond. He was glad he'd never taken his own advice. If he had he wouldn't know that she had perpetually icy toes, a soft spot for cats, and could spend an entire day lazing about with a mediocre book.

She was his favorite subject to study. Whether it was working, sleeping, fighting, or pressed tightly against him as the world sparked around them, he was always learning. She was endlessly fascinating to him.

“The skies are far too clear for how much snow they’ve forecast,” she said, eyes turned upward to the starry sky. “I would’ve thought it would at least be cloudy by now.”

“Yeah,”he agreed, glancing briefly at the sky before turning his attention back to her. “Makes you wonder if they got it really wrong.”He watched as her breath puffed out in a responding laugh. Unable to resist, he leaned down and sealed his lips over hers, spreading his palm over her cheek and jaw to anchor them both in place. He kissed her languidly, savoring the hint of bourbon and chocolate she tasted of. “I love you,” he murmured after pulling back for air.

Her face split in a grin as she leaned up to press a soft kiss at the corner of his mouth. “I love you too.” She burrowed into the warmth at his side and he smiled.

They sat in the quiet for a few minutes, just listening to the world continue to turn around them. Tomorrow he would pick up their paper, and then, like clockwork, he would jog over to retrieve their elderly neighbor's paper from the bushes where it was always thrown. Peggy would meet him at the door with a soft smile and a cup of tea, ready to accept the day's news. He would snag the comic strips and a kiss before heading off into the kitchen to make them eggs and toast. And their neighbors would continue to think they were the newlyweds they weren't; a few friends in high places had fabricated the paperwork so as to not arouse any suspicions, but he wasn't content to just let that be their marriage. The little box was burning a hole in his jacket pocket, and just waiting for the right moment.

“It’s a beautiful night,” he commented, looking at her rather than the stars. He’d missed them in all of the light pollution that was the future; he’d missed her more. He wasn't going to spend another day without her.

She hummed in agreement, finding his hand and lacing her fingers through his. “I’m gobsmacked Howard hasn’t found us or himself anything dumb to do.”

“The night is young on that one,” he laughed, squeezing her hand. "Come on, you're going to get frostbite." He stood up and pulled her onto her feet, looking in the direction they were going to be walking at the heavy clouds. "Snow is here too," he commented, and as if on queue fat snowflakes finally began to fall around them.

She tilted her head back and opened her mouth to try and catch one and the world stopped turning. This was it. This was what he had been waiting for. "Hey, Peggy?" he asked, reaching into his pocket.

"Hmm?" she responded, face still turned skyward.

Um, hey, it’s uh, Steve. From the pub. Last night. The message read.

Yes, I recall. She typed back, turning away from her friends so they didn’t see the small smile his awkward message elicited.

Right. Look, I don’t know if you saw, but there is a picture of us in the paper.

I’ve already seen it. She answered. It’s actually a rather good picture, I’ve definitely seen worse.

So…

Peggy sighed and went out into her garden to call him. “So, I don’t hate you,” she said the moment he answered. “I, unfortunately, live under a bit of a microscope, and it’s the nature of the beast.”

“Good morning to you too.”

“Good morning,” she laughed. “You really don’t have a thing to worry about, though. They don’t know you from a post and it will be forgotten by the public in a weeks time.”

“So I’m not going to be deported?” he joked.

She chuckled in response. “It’s unlikely, Steve. I might get fussed at, but that’s the worst that will come of this.” She leaned against the wall beside the door and raked her hand through her messy hair.

“I don’t like that. If you’re going to get in trouble, then I should be too.”

“How chivalrous, but I said fussed at and it would really only be my stepmother fussing. She’s a bit vainglorious, and she’s going to feel that this is disrespectful of my station in life. The people who have opinions worth listening to won’t care. Gamma will probably be proud of me for having fun, and my father might actually cheer.”

“I still don’t like the idea of you having to shoulder this alone. I was just as friendly as you were!”

“Steve, they took a picture of us dancing together with my friends, and it appears that’s the only picture they have. Had it been when you were feeding me dessert or when I kissed your cheek at the end of the night, then I would probably be facing more than just the discomfort of my stepmother’s glare. No harm has come to me or my reputation.” She pushed away from the wall and saw Clint’s face mashed against the glass in the door kissing it. “Sod off,” she told him, holding two fingers up to him.

“Um…”

“Oh! No! Not you! Clint. Everyone sort of crashed at mine and Nat’s after we left the pub, and he’s being a pest,” she explained, slipping out of his line of sight.

“Must be crowded.”

“Not as much as it could be. Clint practically lives here, so he and Nat are used to sharing. Pepper and Tony took the spare room, Wanda and Maria stayed with me, and Thor and Bruce took couches. I’m actually not sure if Rhodes is still here or not, but I’ve not been in the cellar yet to see if he claimed that sofa.”

“Meanwhile, Sam and I are sharing a shoebox,” he laughed.

“You should come over around lunch time. They should all be cleared out by then, at least I hope Natasha plans to get Clint out of the house.”

“I can’t, I’ve actually got to leave for a class at Rose Hill here in about an hour. I might be a terrible painter but the kids don’t care. I could… I’d be free after though.”

“You teach an art class? That’s sweet. I can clear my afternoon and do my shopping now instead of later,” she replied, wandering out into the grass.

“Awesome! Um, I’ll text you when I get done then?” he asked.

“Sure. I’ll let you go get ready.”

“See you later,” he answered.

“See you later.” She ended the call and did a little jump before composing herself and heading back to the kitchen. Her friends sat gathered around the table doing the worst impression of uninterested she’d eve seen. “Get it over with, the lot of you.”

They erupted, as one, in a cacophony of excited sounds. She indulged them for ten minutes before heading off to the shower. She was halfway through her shampoo when she decided the market could wait, and at ten after the hour she was strolling into the Rose Hill Community Centre wearing a pair of patched blue jeans and a light green button up.

Timothy Dugan followed her closely as she made her way toward the office. “To expedite this mission a’yours, how about you let me ask what room we need?”

“No need, I’ve found it. You can wait out here if you like, I know how much you adore children,” she teased.

“One time, a kid cries, and you refuse to let it go,” he complained, pulling a chair over to the door. “Go on, have fun.”

“The kid made you cry first.” She flicked Dum Dum’s hat before quietly slipping into the room.

Steve whirled around from the child he was talking to, nearly causing his backwards ball cap to fly off, as half of his students gasped.

A tiny little girl, no more than six, rushed away from her easel and stopped in front of her with her hands on her hips and the tails of her painting smock dragging on the ground. “No one gets to come to class late!”

“Angie, settle down,” Steve laughed, picking his way through the newly formed clump of children towards her.

“But it’s a rule! You said so, Mr. Steve!”

“Angie, that’s the Princess!” a little blonde girl hissed from behind her. “She gets to break all the rules she wants.”

Angie blinked in realization as Peggy knelt down in front of her. “I’m very sorry for interrupting your class, Angie, but do you think I could maybe stay? I’ll understand if the answer is no, because you are very right about rules being rules.”

Angie chewed on her lip and played with the end of her braid, before reaching out to touch the matching braid Peggy had hanging over her shoulder. “This is your only warning, Your Highness.”

“Call me Peggy,” she replied, giving Angie’s braid a light tug.

The little blonde from behind her stepped forward and curtsied at Peggy in an equally oversized smock. “I’m Dottie, it’s very nice to meet you.”

“The pleasure is all mine, Dottie.”

One by one each of the remaining eight children came forward and introduced themselves to her before finally allowing Steve to get them to scatter back to their easels. There was the contemplative little blonde, Whitney, a little fellow named Jack who insisted on kissing her hand, a cherubic little girl named Rose, a little brick of a boy named Joseph (who she imagined would one day grow up to be a wall), Roger, who was already a little leader, charming little Jason, quiet little Violet, and finally Daniel, who bashfully rolled toward her in his chair.

“You’re really pretty,” he whispered.

“You are quite handsome yourself,” she answered, ruffling his hair.

Steve offered a hand to help her back up to her feet. “What happened to this afternoon?” he asked quietly.

“I decided Natasha and Clint could do the shopping,” she answered cheekily. “And you were only ten minutes away.”

He looked back at his ten charges. “Let’s get back to work, okay? I’m gonna keep coming around to see how everything is going.”

“But Mr. Steve, Princess Peggy needs a place to work!” Angie demanded.

“She’s right, Mr. Steve. I came here for an art class,” Peggy agreed, crossing her arms in front of her.

“You can have my easel,” he answered, taking her to the corner of the room where he normally worked from. He pulled his own work out of the way, but not before she saw it.

“I thought you told me you were a terrible painter,” she accused, reaching for the watercolor he was trying to hide.

“I am!”

“What I just saw was anything but terrible, Mr. Steve,” she retorted, laying hands on the paper and pulling it back toward her. It was a landscape, waves crashing on the shore in Dover, and it almost looked as though the waves were actually moving on the page. “Truly, Steve, this is very good.”

He turned pink at her kind words and smoothed a new sheet of paper out on the easel in front of her. “Thanks.”

Daniel tugged on his shirt sleeve and held up one of the extra smocks Steve always hung on the coat pegs in the room. “Can you come and help me with my colors again?”

“Thanks, buddy. I’ll be right over.” Steve handed the paint splattered button down to Peggy and moved the paint set in closer to her right side. “I asked the kids to paint their favorite thing they did since our last class, but whatever you want to do is fine.”

“Mr. Steve!” Whitney wailed, “Joseph threw his water at me!”

“Did not! I hit it on accident,” he yelled, stomping in the puddle and splashing more of the murky brown water in her direction.

“Liar!” she yelled back, bending down to untie her once white shoes.

“I gotta…” Steve started before heading to the other side of the room.

Peggy smirked at him and then turned to look down at little Daniel who had been patiently waiting for help. “Perhaps I could help you with your colors?”

Daniel blushed at her attention and nodded. “I think I mixed up my red and orange again,” he admitted quietly. “I went to the park and flew a kite with my dad.”

She lay the smock down on the stool and went over to his space and sat on her knees next to him. “Well, you’ve got a bright red dragon breathing a nice orange fire on here. Is that how it’s supposed to look?”

“Yeah!” he answered, giving her his winningest smile.

She gave him a smile in return, before glancing across the room to Steve. She had no idea how to address that he’d painted the sky green and the grass blue.

“I get my colors mixed up all the time.”

“I have an idea.” Peggy took a nearby scrap of paper and sat it under the watercolor pallet, she then labeled each of the seven colors for the little boy. “Does that help?”

He frowned and nodded. “Yeah, it just means I messed up again.”

An opening. “I quite like a green sky, it means that a very nasty storm is coming, so perhaps your dragon is flying over a pond and getting ready to fight it off to keep everyone in the park safe.”

“But that isn’t what happened.”

“Says who! You and I will be the only ones who know the truth,” she replied very seriously.

Daniel gave her another bright smile and a thank you before going back to his painting.

When she stood back up Steve was standing a few feet away watching her. He gave her a moment to get back to his easel before he approached. “That was a great save. He’s blue-yellow colorblind and it makes him so angry when he gets it wrong. I think Joseph teases him about it in school.”

“He seems like the type,” she said dryly. “So, Mr. Steve, I have free reign on what to paint?”

“For the most part.”

“Good.” She prepared her paintbrush with purple paint and then flicked it at her paper, sending little droplets of water across it.

“That’s one way to do it,” he laughed. “Here, try this.” He picked up a brush with stiffer bristles and mixed blue and green together on it before using his thumb to flick the bristles and spattered the combination of colors across the paper.

She took the brush from him and did the same thing with red paint. “Ha! That’s fun.” She channeled her inner Jackson Pollock a few more times before dragging the brush itself across the page.

“Mr. Steve, can you help me make a color I don’t have?” Dottie asked, from right beside them.

Steve startled when she spoke. “Yeee-aaah, I gotta put a bell on you kid!” He guided her back across the room and helped her figure out how to mix the paints until she had the color she wanted. After that he made another pass around the room, stopping and stooping down so that each child he spoke to he was eye level with.

Peggy was paying more attention to his bottom though. The not too tight jeans were proving to be a distraction for her, and the shapes she had been painting quickly just became squiggles. When Steve ducked down out of her line of sight she shook her head and looked back to her work. The kids had probably done a lot better than she had, there was no way around it.

“Can I show you what I made?” Angie asked, poking her head around the edge of the easel.

Peggy glanced at her paper again to make sure her subconscious hadn’t done anything before nodding to the child.

Angie gave a little jump and then held her arms up to Peggy.

She plucked the waif of a girl up off the floor and settled her in her lap. “What do we have then?”

Angie held her paper out as far in front of them as she could reach. “My mum let me help bake biscuits and then we took them to my neighbor. These are all of her cats, and those are the biscuits we made. And that’s me playing with a cat. And that’s mum and our neighbor Mrs. Tilly. And that’s a poo.”

“It’s very detailed. You’ve done a wonderful job of making sure each cat looks different,” Peggy told her, pointing to two of the more distinct cats.

“Yours looks funny.”

“Yes, well, I didn’t know what to paint, so I was mostly just messing around, but don’t tell Mr. Steve.”

Angie shook her head vigorously. “I won’t tell him.”

“Hey, there you are. You scared me, Ang,” Steve said as he walked over.

“I wanted to show her my picture! Hey, Princess Peggy, how come you came to our art class?” Angie asked suddenly, craning her neck to look up at the owner of the lap she was sitting in.

“Mr. Steve is my friend and I wanted to surprise him.”

“Cos you like him?” she teased in the way that only a child can. “He’s really handsome, like Flynn in Tangled. He smells good too, like cakes,” she sighed wistfully.

Steve chuckled. “Did I mention my shoebox is above a bakery?”

Peggy laughed and gave little Angie a hug. “He does smell like cake, you’re right, but I think he’s a bit more Prince Eric than Eugene Fitzherbert.”

“Who is that?”

“The prince form The Little Mermaid of course, it’s my favorite!” Peggy exclaimed.

“Oh. I don’t like that movie. I’m scared of the ocean.”

Steve’s jaw dropped. “I’ve never met anyone who doesn’t like that movie, Ang. Geez, even I wanted to be a mermaid when I grew up after I saw that one!”

“Ariel, listen to me. The human world, it’s a mess. Life under the sea is better than anything they got up there,” Peggy began, adopting a faux deep voice.

“The seaweed is always greener in somebody else’s lake. You dream about going up there, but that is a big mistake!” Steve sang.

“Just look at the world around you, right here on the ocean floor. Such wonderful things surround you, what more is you looking for?” she continued.

“Under the sea, under the sea! Darling, it’s better down where it’s wetter, take it from me!” they sang together before dissolving into laughter.

“You guys are weird.”

Peggy tickled her in response before letting her safely slip back to the floor. “That’s definitely the truth,” she agreed, laughing as Angie rolled her eyes at them and went back to her easel.

“I kind of want to watch that now, thanks.”

“Does Mr. Steve still want to be a mermaid?” she teased mirthfully.

“You bet your sweet ass, I do," he whispered with a sly grin.

Peggy snorted at his answer and picked her paintbrush back up. “Get back to work, I’ve got a masterpiece to finish.”

At the end of the hour Steve took a group photo of everyone on his phone, Peggy included, happily holding up their artwork. Hers was truly a mess, but he laughed uproariously when he realized she’d painted mermaids in all of the empty spaces she could find.

It was a bit of an adventure when all the parents showed up to get their kids, Dugan would only allow one parent in at a time. And each parent had the exact same reaction: yelp, bow, word vomit. Peggy graciously spoke to each one and took pictures with them as well, each kid got a hug goodbye and a promise to come back for another visit. Daniel’s mom was last, rushing up the hall, nearly ten minutes late, soaking wet, and the only reason she didn’t wipe out when she tried to stop by the door is because Dugan caught her.

“Th-thanks. Daniel, I’m sorry I’m late. There was an accident because of the rain,” she explained as she hurried over to her little boy. “What did you make today?”

“It’s my dragon kite saving everyone at the park!” He flipped his painting around for her to see and pointed out all the details he’d added to it during class. “Ms. Peggy was real nice and made me look at it another way when I messed up,” he told her quickly but quietly.

“Ms. Who?” the woman asked.

“The Princess,” he answered, pointing over to where Steve and Peggy stood shoulder to shoulder by the window.

Peggy gave a little wave as the woman looked on in shock. “You have a very lovely son.”

“Thank you, your Highness.” She curtsied and then ventured a look over at her little boy. “Were you on your best behavior today young man?”

Daniel nodded and then rolled himself over to the other two adults in the room. “Ms. Peggy, will you and Mr. Steve sing more songs when you come and see us again?”

Peggy laughed and bent down to give the boy a hug and a kiss on the cheek. “It’s likely. I am a pretty silly person, after all.”

Steve gave him a fist bump, before tucking his painting into the backpack hanging on his chair. “Don’t forget to bring a picture for next class, okay?”

“I won’t, Mr. Steve. I’m gonna get one as soon as I get home!”

Steve saw them off and then set about getting everything cleaned up for the next group. When he turned back to ask Peggy a question he found her neatly folding up all the smocks and sticking them in the box he’d left by the coat rack. “You don’t have’ta do that.”

“I’m well aware of what I do and do not have to do. I do, however, want to help, so I am,” she fired back.

“Aww, be nice to ‘im, Teacup,” Dugan offered from the door.

“Must you call me that in front of other people?” she asked as Steve placed his personal brush set and portfolio on the box with the folded smocks.

“It’s cute,” he told her, giving the room one last visual sweep.

“When I was ten? Absolutely. Now? Not so much.”

“Nah, it’s cute. Promise.” He grabbed his own jacket from the hook. He shrugged it on and unzipped his backpack just as rain began to beat heavily against the window. “Oh, come on,” he whined, helmet in hand.