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Layer on Layer: Epilogue- PART ONE

“You see one painting, I see another, […] it’ll never strike anybody the same way and the great majority of people it’ll never strike in any deep way at all but—a really great painting is fluid enough to work its way into the mind and heart through all kinds of different angles, in ways that are unique and very particular. Yours, yours. I was painted for you.” ― Donna Tartt, The Goldfinch

Despite the scorching heat radiating from the sudden summer outside, Steve had turned the AC off while the sun blazed in through the windows of the loft’s living room where he’d been painting. He had his music turned up and he was humming as he worked.

Peggy had given him the custom made easel, sturdy, adjustable, gorgeous, no doubt pricey, as a gift. He’d been painting so much that Peggy had deemed it necessary he have an easel at her place, a designated space to work since he spent so much time there anyway. She had claimed is a selfish gift after he voiced concern about her being too generous, assuring him she looked forward to watching him paint from the comfort of her couch. And she often did, taking breaks from her work by watching him mix colors and paint broad strokes.

The first thing he had painted at his new easel was for her, another detailed flower arrangement, just for her.

After unveiling the final product of Ana’s anniversary painting, which reportedly made Ana cry, happy tears Jarvis assured, she had given Steve a tremendous hug and after their double date dinner, they discussed art for a long time, their significant others at their sides sipping tea opting to discuss the dessert spread instead. He’d been so happy and warm to sit there among her friends, her make-shift family, accepting and open to him. How he could possibly love Peggy more he didn’t fully understand other than that he was learning he did it with every passing day.

Not long after that, Peggy started suggesting dates at more art museums and galleries. She watched him paint and encouraged him to do it more broadly. To show his work. To do more commissions. He wasn’t sure about all that, but he did start to paint more and more. He’d started even transferring images out of his therapy journal into oils. He’d done several, even brought one in to show his art therapy group. They encouraged him to make a series, to show his stories on canvas.

Steve swirls his paintbrush into his yellows, ochres melding with browns.

He’s deep in concentration getting her warm brown eyes just right, the right shade, the touch of a knowing glimmer in them. He remembers the first time they locked eyes, across her bedroom, just down the hall from where he stood right then.

He’s so deep in concentration, he doesn’t think twice at the sound of the front door opening and then when he hears footsteps approaching.

“Hey Peg, aren’t you late?” he asks distractedly without looking up.

“She sure is,” a voice that’s not Peggy’s startles him. He nearly drops his palette, tipping it over and paint gets on his bare chest.

He looks up and sees Angie.

“Sorry!” she cries out, and he notices she’s not looking at his face when he sets the palette down, trying to wipe at the pint on his skin. “Wow. This is a look. Go English!”

Steve blushes, grabbing his rag and using it as a make-shift cover for at least part of his bare torso.

“I thought you two were meeting at your hotel for drinks,” Steve said, reaching over to the couch for his shirt. Angie is still staring when he slips it on.

“We were but she was running late. And so when she didn’t show I thought I’d see if we got our wires crossed and see if she was here. Sorry for scaring you. I still had my key, and I wasn’t thinking. I didn’t realize you’d be here.”

“It’s okay,” he said. “I’m sure Peggy just got caught up or stuck in traffic. You know how her work is.”

Angie nodded. “Yeah, she’s always going at a hundred miles a minute.” She stepped further into the room until she was right in front of the canvas. “You’re painting Peggy! You’ve been painting a perfect portrait of her half-naked looking like a Greek God. Unreal.”

Steve blushed further. “It’s hot in here but I prefer the breeze and the sunlight filtering in while painting so I turned the air conditioning off.”

“Oh don’t apologize, Steve. This has been the best surprise to walk into. I can’t imagine how Peg handles coming home to this every day.”

“We’re not living together.”

The yet goes without saying.

She giggled. “Yeah and when’s the last time you were at your place?”

“This morning,” he said defensively.

She just smirked and continue to devolve into giggles.

“You’re an amazing artist. That looks just like Peggy, down to that spark in her eye. I might need to hire you to paint me.”

He laughed. “Free of charge Angie. Friends and family plan.”

She grinned. “You’re as sweet as a button, you know that?”

“Can I get you something? Water?” he asked, already headed into the kitchen.

“Water’s good.”

They say down in the living room together chatting.

“How was your flight? Did you have press today?”

“Yup. Did a few of the morning shows. I have a late-night show appearance tomorrow afternoon that I’m pretty excited about. I can’t believe they’re having me on it!”

“We’ll have to record it. Peggy and I have been watching every episode by the way. But we’re a few behind because I have to wait and watch them with her. But you’re our favorite!”

“Aw, shucks. I cannot believe you got Peggy watching network TV.”

He laughed. “No I got her to use Netflix. You got her into network TV. She says you’re the most believable, though she always figures out the plot twists before I do. Are you giving her spoilers?”

“No way! And give away the impact of my performances before she sees them? That’s definitely all English. How’s she been? Super busy?”

“A little, but less so recently. She had a busy few weeks before her conference with the EU but she’s been keeping a regular schedule lately, coming home for dinner most nights.”

“Guess I just got unlucky with my timing,” Angie replied. “But I’m glad Peggy’s been taking some time for herself.”

Steve nodded. He’d seen Peggy in all sorts of ranges of stress in the last ten months. He’d been so glad that she’d been taking more personal time off, delegating, taking care of her well-being, seeking out his support when she needed it. Of course she was a busy woman. That was a given. But she always tried to make time. She always took the effort to stay present when they spent quality time together.

She’d gone out of her way to support his painting. They’d spent so many evenings out, sipping wine and swinging by the latest “hot” opening only for Peggy to proclaim that his work was much better, more moving, worthy of his own showing.

He still wasn’t all too sure about the whole artist career, but he loved how supportive she had been. How much she cared. How much she believe in him. It was nice to know if nothing else, he had a fan in Peggy.

“I’ve been trying to make sure she’s been taking care of herself better.”

“Good. I already know how good you are to her. She’s always happy to talk about you. I wouldn’t have believed it before actually meeting you.”

He shrugs off the compliment, after all he didn’t want the praise for just being there for someone he loved. Besides she deserved it and more.

“Maybe she’s got held up in a meeting. I’m sure she remembers our reservation,” Steve said after another fifteen minutes without hearing from her. “I’ll try to call her again.”

He didn’t catch her, but he did leave her a message reminding her of their reservation and that he and Angie would meet her there. Steve changed quickly in Peggy’s room and then the two of them hailed a cab. Angie filled him in on some L.A. gossip and some stories of her cast mates. He liked how bright and bubbly Angie was. He liked hearing stories of how she and Peggy became friends. How Peggy had always believed in Angie becoming an actress, and how the two always had each other’s backs. He liked knowing there were people apart from himself that cared so much for her.

They were early for their reservation, opting for the bar while they continued to swap stories. He checked his phone once they were seated but there were no messages. Angie convinced him to split an appetizer as she was starving and he hadn’t eaten since lunch.

“Must be some hell of a meeting English is stuck in for her to respond to my texts for like five hours.”

Steve hummed, checking his phone.

Two weeks later, Peggy set her bag down just inside the threshold of Natasha’s bright, clean two-story duplex. “Are you sure you want me to stay?”

Nat waved her hand. “It’s such a long drive between your neighborhood and mine. If you’d be more comfortable at home, of course, Liho will be fine.”

Peggy looked around the downstairs living area, flooded with early afternoon light. “I’m sure I’ll be perfectly comfortable here. I just know how very private you are.”

Nat gave her a shy smile. “I think we’re past all that, aren’t we?”

“I’m glad you feel that way.” Peggy smiled broadly back.

“Okay, bedroom is upstairs and there are fresh sheets and towels and everything. Help yourself to anything in the fridge or pantry, of course. I got some of those yogurts you always eat, plus this—” Nat thrust a nice bottle of red wine into Peggy’s hands, though Peggy wasn’t sure exactly where she’d been hiding it up until then “—Her food is on the counter, please just the listed amounts, because she is a terrible beggar and will try to weasel more food out of you.“

“Noted,” Peggy said.

“And her litter boxes are in the bathrooms, the litter is flushable.”

“Convenient.”

“Also, she sometimes tries to escape out the front door, so look out for that.”

“So to review, your cat is a cat who acts like a cat,” Peggy teased. “I have this handled, I promise. Liho and I will get some quality time on your couch with everyone’s favorite streaming network while you spend the holiday with your sexy ex. Now get out of here. Maria’s waiting for you, isn’t she?”

“Thank you, Peggy,” Natasha said, as she rolled her eyes but pulled her in for a quick hug nonetheless. “Liho’s hiding upstairs, but she’ll probably come down around dinnertime, so like, six, if she doesn’t get curious about you before then.”

“Is she very interested in people?” Peggy’s grandmother kept cats in her little London flat, and they were always all over the place regardless of who was visiting, though she supposed that could have been more out of necessity. The few times she and her brother Michael had tried to play hide-and-seek while visiting Nana had been very anticlimactic: there were only two good child-sized (or even cat-sized) hiding spots in the whole place.

Nat shook her head. “She and I get along because we’re very similar.”

“So if I lose her, I should just put out a saucer of vodka.”

“It might work,” Nat allowed. “Smart-ass.”

“Aren’t you leaving?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Nat looked up the stairs one more time. “Thanks again. Text me if you need anything.”

“We won’t.” Peggy raised her eyebrow. “Text me if you get some this weekend.”

Nat actually blushed at that, to Peggy’s surprise. “You’re sort of wearing on my gratitude, here,” she grumbled fondly. She picked up her bag and took her coat off the hook.

Peggy threw up her hands. “Yes, I’m trying to get you to leave already!”

Laughing over her shoulder, Nat finally opened the door. “See you in a week.”

“Drive safe!” Peggy called after her.

“Oh!” Nat called, stopping beside her car. “My neighbors are all pretty friendly, don’t be surprised if someone pops by.”

Before Peggy could formulate a response (How friendly? Which neighbors? Why aren’t any of them watching your cat?), Nat was in her car and on her way. “Thanks for that advice, I guess,” Peggy said to herself. She closed the door and looked around. At least this Christmas she’d be alone in a new location, she mused. She pulled out her phone and tapped out a quick message to her friend Angie back home, even though Peggy knew she’d be asleep already. She scrolled aimlessly through the apps on her phone, hovering over the ‘dating’ folder she’d shoved Hinge and Bumble and all the rest into after the last in a series of disastrous dates over the summer. Peggy hated to admit it, even to herself, but she was lonely.

True to Natasha’s word, a small, sleek black cat poked her head through the top two spindles of the stairs promptly at six pm and, upon seeing Peggy on the couch but not Natasha, she let out a series of squeaking chirps. Peggy put down the novel she’d borrowed from Nat’s bookshelf—Lauren Beukes’s Broken Monsters, and here Peggy had thought Nat to be more of a nonfiction reader—and got up to see what Liho’s dinner situation was.

Natasha very clearly cared a great deal for the skinny little cat who, according to Nat, had turned up on her doorstep one day and invited herself to stay forever. There was a stainless steel water dish that continuously burbled up a little fountain, and two shallow dishes, one for wet food and one for dry. On the counter above the cat’s dishes, Nat had thoughtfully set out Liho’s food, all fancy brand-name specialty stuff. Liho chirped at her a few more times while Peggy dumped a can of wet into the designated bowl, and she kept making adorable little nomming noises while she chowed down. Peggy stroked her hand down the cat’s back and Liho jumped and shot Peggy an affronted look before she went back to her food.

“No touchy while eating, got it.” Peggy left the cat to her meal and grabbed her phone to see what delivery options were available in Nat’s neighborhood. As she tried to decide between Mexican and an interesting Vietnamese-fusion place, the doorbell rang.

Peggy opened the door to a barefoot, confused-looking man wearing a t-shirt despite the frigid weather. He sketched a brief wave before launching into a query in sign language, but she couldn’t hope to follow. Peggy waved back and gave him a broad “huh” gesture. He nodded and reached up to turn on the hearing aids hidden under his hat.

“Is Nat home?” he asked.

“I’m sorry, she’s not in,” Peggy responded.

“I’m her neighbor, Clint,” he said, pointing his thumb at the other side of the duplex. “I was hoping she’d want to split a takeout order.”

“Oh!” Peggy said, realization dawning. “I’m Peggy, Nat’s friend from work. I’m watching her cat for the week. Did she tell you she was going back for the holiday?”

Clint watched her lips closely and nodded as she spoke. “Right, sorry, I forgot.” He scratched the back of his head under his knit cap and squinted at her. “Do you maybe want to go in on some takeout?”

A grin spread across her face and she opened the door wider. “What do you think of the Vietnamese place?”

Clint gave her both thumbs up. “The báhn bao are freaking amazing.”

When Nat texted later that evening to let Peggy know she’d arrived, Peggy and Clint snapped a quick photo for her with their very impressive spread of food and Liho just barely visible in the background, creeping on the interlopers in her home from the top of the stairs. Nat texted back a laughing with tears emoji and then when you go to bed tonight double check under the covers. she sometimes attacks feet if she’s not expecting them

Noted, Peggy replied. More normal cat behavior.

Nat sent back the eye-roll emoji.

Have you seen Maria yet? Peggy hoped she wasn’t being too nosy. She and Nat had been friendly for years but this new level, with in-home cat-sitting and ex-sex-discussing, was still pretty new for them.

In response, a photo appeared of Nat’s slim fingers around a half-drunk pint glass. she’s meeting me in 30 minutes, got here early for some liquid courage

Peggy sent her a string of crossed fingers and martini glasses, punctuated with a purple heart.

Nat sent back a purple heart and Peggy felt it in her chest, warm and liquid. She didn’t have many good friends, and all of them were back home in the UK. Nat, standoffish, prickly, elusive Nat, was turning out to be her first real friend in the States.

Just then, Liho jumped up into Peggy’s lap and butted her head against the hand holding her phone. Now she was ready for Peggy to pet her.

Clint was good company, and he turned out to unabashedly love Love Island, which Peggy watched to keep up with Angie’s opinions on the subject, so he and Peggy re-started the beginning of the third series together and talked about how Camilla was too good for the rest of the crowd.

While Peggy got ready for bed, she poked her head around the upstairs, looking for Liho as she brushed her teeth and slathered on moisturizer, dipping back into the bathroom to spit and then to dab on a spot treatment.

“Where are you hiding, miss?” She peeked behind the door of Nat’s second bedroom, set up as an office. She spun the desk chair around, but there was no cat curled in a ball in the seat. Peggy went into Nat’s bedroom and threw back the covers, but no luck. She called and called, but Liho didn’t poke her head out, didn’t answer with a chirp. Peggy searched the whole house twice, and then remembered what Nat had said about the front door. Had it been open too long when Clint left? Peggy had said goodnight and gone to put away her leftovers, she hadn’t watched to see if the cat stayed inside. She couldn’t remember seeing her after that.

Feeling out of sorts, Peggy grabbed her phone and Nat’s key, tossed a hoodie on over her sleeping shirt and shoved her feet into her sneakers. She opened the door and stepped onto the stoop, calling softly for Liho as she shut the door firmly behind her, in case the cat was still inside. “If you’re out here, darling, please come back inside.” Peggy shivered as a cold wind blew down the street, throwing the bare branches of the tree in Nat’s yard against each other. A full moon and a cloudless sky, plus the street lamps and the festive lights on many of the houses meant the street was fairly well-lit, even at this hour.

She turned on the flashlight on her phone and swept the light around the walkway, focusing on the spots in shadow. “Liho!” She stepped off the stoop and into the yard. Over the wind, Peggy heard it. An unmistakable chirp. She spun around, trying to see the cat. “Come here, kitty!” Against her better judgement, she made kissy noises and thanked the lord no one else seemed to be out at this hour. Another chirp, and this time Peggy realized where it was coming from. She aimed her light at the tree. Standing in a vee about halfway up the old oak was Liho, shivering in the wind.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Peggy said, “did you get yourself stuck up there?” Liho chirped back at her and stayed put.

Peggy eyed the tree trunk. She’d climbed more difficult ones, to be sure, but not since primary school. She tucked her phone and keys into her pocket and zipped her hoodie up to her chin. “I’m gonna get you down,” she told the cat. “Don’t worry,” she said, mostly to herself.

As Peggy climbed, Liho retreated further up into the branches. “That’s the wrong direction!” Peggy complained. But she could keep going, so she did. The street lamp provided decent illumination, and it was a dry, cold night, so the bark wasn’t slippery against her rubber-soled shoes.

A truck rumbled down the street and stopped at a nearby house and Peggy hoped the occupants wouldn’t notice her, climbing a tree at midnight in her pajamas.

“Uh, ma’am?” A voice called up from below.

“Bugger,” Peggy cursed. No such luck.

She didn’t dare look down, the branches were starting to get thin. Liho watched the man on the street with some interest, though, which might work in Peggy’s favor. “Ma’am I’m with the fire department. Is everything okay up there?”

Peggy had to laugh. “I’m fine, just retrieving a cat. But you seem to be short a hook and ladder, or even a siren. So try again, Mr. Fireman.”

She heard a sigh from down below, but Liho was cautiously creeping towards Peggy along one of the topmost branches. “That’s it, come here.” Peggy reached out her hand and Liho came closer. Peggy braced herself against the trunk of the tree, hugging it with her thighs, and then she grabbed the cat by the scruff of her neck. Liho let out an undignified squawk but didn’t fight her grip, allowing Peggy to drag her close to her chest and hold her there.

“Good job,” the man encouraged.

“No thanks to you,” Peggy muttered. She climbed down. Liho, to her credit, submitted to Peggy’s hold like a kitten in her mama’s jaws. Soon enough, they were both out of the tree.

The supposed firefighter stood several feet away on the sidewalk, watching. “All set?” he asked.

“We’re fine.” She finally got a good look at him then, and well, he did look the part. At least six feet tall, with broad shoulders, fair hair, and a clean-cut All-American sort of look, if the chiseled jawline throwing shadows under the streetlamps were anything to go by. He wasn’t in his gear, of course, just jeans and a short leather jacket. It was still a good look on him.

He looked back up the tree. “You, uh, you’re pretty good at that.” He looked back to her and gave her a small smile.

“It’s not my first tree.” She looked him up and down. “Are you really a firefighter?”

He hooked his thumb back at his truck. “Not on duty. I heard the call on my radio, and I was nearby.” Now Peggy could see the bar of lights on the top of his truck. “I’m guessing you didn’t call this in, though? You definitely had things under control.”

She smiled despite herself. “I did have it under control.”

He nodded. “Well, glad I could be of no help at all.”

“You certainly did get here quickly, so points for that, I suppose.” She shifted the cat against her and took a tentative step closer.

“I live in the neighborhood.” He took a step closer, too. Peggy could see the wry smile on his lush mouth now. “Steve Rogers,” he offered.

“Peggy Carter. I’m just cat-sitting for a friend.” She cut him a look under her lashes, having a bit of fun. “But I’m starting to see why my friend likes this location.” Steve open and shut his mouth a few times, and then his reply was cut off by the wail of a siren. They both turned to look as a fire truck careened down the street. Steve stepped into the center of the road to flag them down. As the siren got louder, Peggy felt Liho tense under her hands, her front claws digging into Peggy’s sweatshirt. She tried to hold her close, but the cat squirmed away and bounded right back up into the tree. “Oh, Bloody Nora!”

He came back to stand beside her, hands on his hips. “Did the cat just run back up the tree?”

Peggy sighed. “The cat just ran back up the tree.”

“Well,” Steve scratched at the back of his head as he looked up to where Liho had perched herself, “I have that ladder now.”

“Captain Rogers!” Someone called from over by the truck. “Fancy meeting you here.”

Steve checked his watch. “Lieutenant Barnes, somehow I made it here a full five minutes before you did.”

“Aw, Steve, it’s a cat in a tree.”

“I told him we should get our hustle on for any call in your neighborhood, Cap,” another firefighter piped up.

“You should hustle for any call anywhere, come on, team” Steve’s voice got more commanding as he spoke with the members of the crew.

“Is that the cat’s owner?” another crew member piped up, gesturing at Peggy as she climbed down from the truck.

“I’m caring for her, yes,” Peggy replied.

The woman looked up at the tree and back at Peggy. “Would she let someone hold her if we got the ladder up there?”

Peggy considered. “She’s not great with new people.”

The firefighter nodded and looked back at Steve. “Cat bag.”

“Cat bag,” Steve agreed. “Ms. Carter here already got her down once, so I don’t think this one’s a jumper.”

The rest of the crew all exchanged looks, disbelief clear on their faces despite the truck’s flashing lights throwing strange shadows over the group. “Uh, what?” The handsome one Steve had called Barnes broke the awkward silence.

“I got her down,” Peggy explained. “Then your siren scared her and she went right back up.”

Another firefighter—also a handsome man, Peggy noticed—looked slowly between Peggy and the tree. “So if you didn’t have any trouble getting up there, then why …?” He squinted back at Peggy.

“She didn’t call this in, it must have been a neighbor.” Steve clapped his hands together. “All right, it’s cold out and I’m sure that cat wants to be warm inside, just like the rest of us. Who’s going up?”

“Not it,” both Barnes and the other one said at the same time.

“Wilson,” Barnes whined, “I got the last one.”

“Allergies, man. You’d have to dose me with Benadryl if you want me within five feet of a cat.” Wilson shrugged. “Sif, can you take this one?’

The female firefighter—yet again a very attractive person, statuesque with dark hair and big, dark eyes, Peggy was starting to wonder if the entire engine company put out a calendar every year—already had a burlap sack, which Peggy assumed was the cat bag, in her hands, along with a length of nylon rope and carabiners. She rolled her eyes at the other two. “Well, it’s not like Cap’s going to send Dum Dum up after her, is it?”

As if on cue, a fourth fire fighter stuck his head out of the truck’s door. “Everything okay out here?”

“Thanks for the help, Dugan!” Steve shouted back.

“Oh! Cap! Didn’t realize you were here!”

Steve waved him off and turned back to Sif. “You don’t want the ladder?”

Sif looked at the tree. “Nah, it’ll go faster and scare the cat less if I climb up. What’s her name?” The last part she addressed to Peggy.

“Liho.”

Sif nodded, put on some thick work gloves she produced from a pocket, clipped the cat bag to her belt and up she went.

“You know,” Peggy said, standing next to Steve as they watched Sif’s ascent, “if you lot hadn’t showed up I’d already be back in the house with the cat I’ve been entrusted to look after.”

She could hear the smile in his voice as he replied. “But then you wouldn’t have met me or my motley crew, and wouldn’t that have been a shame.”

Peggy eyed him speculatively and took a breath. “Jury’s still out. Perhaps you could buy me coffee sometime, Captain, as an apology for keeping me up so late. Give me more time to decide.” She felt brazen, hitting on a man who was there to do his work, but he wasn’t her neighbor, after all. And she was intrigued by this man, his apparent kindness, how he showed up even when his shift was over, not to mention the easy way he had with the people under his command. Captain Steve Rogers was the sort of man she wanted to get to know better. And, not to put too fine a point on it ... he was sexy.

Half his mouth quirked up in a self-conscious smile and he rubbed at the back of his neck. “Coffee, huh?” He looked at her, his ridiculously long eyelashes casting shadows on his face in the strange light. “Could we make it dinner? Tomorrow?” He shoved his hands in his pockets and rocked on the balls of his feet. “With the upcoming holidays, I’m going to be working ten days straight. Better to get it out of the way.”

“Oh.” Peggy’s spirits fell.

“No!” Steve backtracked, eyes wide. “That came out all wrong. That was me trying not to uh, sound too eager? Also, I’m tired, and one of my firefighters is up a tree, and you are a very attractive woman and you just asked me out and my brain might be short-circuiting right now?”

Peggy had to laugh at that. “Okay, okay, stop digging.”

“You have to forgive Cap,” Wilson said from behind them. “We don’t let him out much.”

“This may in fact be the first non-work conversation he’s had with a woman,” Barnes chimed in. “Sorry it was so bad. He’s terrible at flirting.”

Steve took the good-natured teasing in stride. “Watch it, you two,” he warned them, but there was only wry warmth in his tone as he shook his head.

“I agree, it was very lacklustre flirting,” Peggy said. “You’ll need to step up your game for dinner tomorrow.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Steve replied, a broad smile on his face.

“Got her!” Sif called from above. “Coming down. Good job securing a date, Cap.”