Captain Carter x Fem!SHIELD worker
Warning: established workplace relationship, teasing, fluff and humor, no angst
Youâre assigned with making your girlfriendâs new suit. Her original one is âoutdatedâ
Youâre trying, genuinely trying, to be professional.
Thereâs a work-issued tablet in your hand, fabric swatches spread across the table and a highly detailed schematic of a new combat-ready suit projected midair in front of you. This is real work. SHIELD-level, world-saving work.
You even skipped lunch for this. Unfortunately, your girlfriend is not taking it nearly as seriously.
Peggy Carter, Captain Carter, technically, although youâre the only one who calls her Peggy to her face and lives to tell the tale (aside from a certain redheaded ex-assassin), is currently standing on your platform wearing a glittery Union Jack cape that looks like it was stolen from a pageant contestant. And not even a good one.
âI think this one says leaderâ Peggy declares with faux-earnestness, spreading her arms out dramatically like sheâs about to levitate.
The cape is sparkly. Her smirk is worse.
âWhy are you like this?â
She shrugs innocently. âBecause you get that little crease between your eyebrows when youâre focused. Itâs adorable. Iâm helpingâ
You squint at her. âYouâre helping the way a cat helps with a puzzle by sitting on itâ
âOh, you love itâ The taller woman says breezily while stepping down from the platform with the kind of grace that only people enhanced by super-soldier serum can manage. The cape flutters behind her like a flag waving surrender.
âIâm removing glitter privilegesâ You mutter, swiping her ridiculous hologram aside and pulling up the real prototype.
âUnwiseâ Peggy teases, walking behind you and resting her chin on your head. âYou gave me full creative input, remember?â
âI gave you the illusion of creative input. Like those toy steering wheels you give toddlers in the back seatâ
âIf you had your way, youâd be in a trench coat and a pair of brass knucklesâ
âWell, trench coats are classicâ
âTrench coats donât deflect plasma fire, Peggyâ
She hums in acknowledgment and runs a hand over the table, stopping at a dark blue mesh swatch with embedded armor threading. âThis oneâs nice. It feels solidâ
You pause. Real feedback? From Captain Distracted by Biscuits?
Then, just as youâre about to praise her progress, she adds, âBut can we put a tiny snack pocket inside the sleeve? You know, for emergencies?â
And there she goes again.
You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. âYes, fine. Emergency biscuit storage. Anything else you need, Your Majesty? Maybe a teapot holster?â
She gasps like youâve read her mind. âThat would be brilliant, actuallyâ
Youâre not sure whether to laugh or cry, but the smile that creeps across your face makes the decision for you. You glance at her sideways. Sheâs already looking at you, grin softening into something warmer.
âI want this one to feel like me,â Peggy says quietly, more serious now. âNot just the flag and the shield and all that. Me. You know?â
You nod. You know exactly what she means.
After everything, being pulled from her universe, from her time, from her life, Peggyâs had to carry more than just a shield. Sheâs carried the weight of identity, of belonging, of always performing the role people expect her to be.
But here, in your tiny corner of SHIELD HQ filled with fabric bolts and body scan holos, she can be a little selfish. A little silly. A little herself.
âYou want something functional,â You say softly, âbut still you. Durable, versatile, not too flashy, but bold enough to make a statement. Something classic but modern. Strong, clean lines. No nonsenseâ
âExactlyâ She says, leaning in with a smile. âYou always get it right, darlingâ
You give her a crooked smile and wave your hand at the floating projection. âThen no capesâ
Peggy points a finger at you like youâre preaching gospel. âAbsolutely no capesâ
You blink. âYou.. agree with me?â
âIâve read the incident reports,â She says solemnly. âJet turbines, elevator shafts, automatic doors.. Itâs a deathwish. And Iâve seen The Incrediblesâ
You bark a laugh. âYou did not just reference a Pixar movie during a uniform design consultationâ You grin and shake your head, scrolling through more design elements. âOkay. So we ditch the cape, keep the classic Union Jack motif, but tone it down to a darker blue base with reinforced paneling. Weâll embed a kinetic energy dispersal mesh in the torso, flex-weave in the joints, stealth coating on the glovesâ
Peggy whistles low. âYou talk nerdy to me like that and Iâm going to have to kiss youâ
âPromises, promisesâ You murmur, distracted by adjusting the collar details in the hologram. âAlso, reinforced knees for all the times you jump out of things you shouldnât be jumping out ofâ
âOne rooftop and you never let me live it downâ
âYou didnât even check the landingâ
âI was checking. With my feetâ
You snort, setting the tablet down and tucking your hair behind your ear. âOkay, I think weâre close. Let me render the mockup. Want to see it?â
She nods, then grabs the back of your chair and spins you to face her. âOnly if I get to model it firstâ
âOh, so now youâre suddenly interested in cooperating?â
âIâve always been interested. I just like watching you work more than wearing skin tight fabric in front of peopleâ
âYou literally led an airborne assault team in spandexâ
âYes, but you werenât there to make me blush about itâ
You look up at her, your heart doing a little somersault. For all her teasing, thereâs something genuine in her gaze now, affection, admiration, trust. It always catches you off guard a little. Like youâre not entirely sure what you did to deserve being the soft part of Captain Carterâs world.
âIâll print the suit tomorrowâ You say quietly, almost like a promise. âYouâll look amazingâ
She leans in, just close enough for your noses to bump, and murmurs, âI already doâ
You roll your eyes. âYou are so full of yourselfâ
âIâm full of biscuits. And love. Mostly loveâ
Before you can make another sarcastic retort, Peggy kisses you, soft and lingering, like youâve got all the time in the world.
For the first time that afternoon, you forget about deadlines, suits, and specifications.
You remember, instead, that even superheroes need someone to hold the measuring tape. And maybe to sneak them snacks between missions.