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One step forwards and one step back -
'bread and cheese', Howard Stark says, and he's a good man, a smart man, even if Steve's not quite sure what to make of his secretary - Steve's fault, probably, more so than hers; he doesn't know anything about women, after all, or so he's been informed repeatedly by someone who ought to know.
Even so. Steve knows a mistake when he's made one, knows what it means to fondue, now (not that he didn't know, before, exactly, but there were assumptions and fears and what-ifs, and she is, without a doubt, the most beautiful woman he's ever seen).
She shoots at him with live rounds, and when she leaves, there's a little bit of light going out of the room. Stark is next to him and Peggy is walking away from him - she's got things to do, her job; if he's lucky, he might see her again tomorrow.
He might, he thinks, dream of her, but hopefully not. Dreams are things to pursue, not things to love.
'right,' Stark says, blinking and breaking the spell. 'the uniform.'
Steve's got a nice suit that probaby won't fit him anymore; it's been hanging in the back of his closet for years and years, smelling of mothballs and missed chances. He might, he thinks, take Peggy dancing while wearing his uniform - two people who work together, sharing an evening.
'I know a guy who can do a nice paint job on the shield,' Stark says.
Steve's drawn the shield, too; the piece of paper's in his pocket, next to his compass. He pulls it out, and the compass comes tumbling out along, the sound of it clattering to the floor reminding him of the sound of flattened bullets sliding off a shield. (The two sounds are nothing alike.)
- one step to the left and one step to the right -
'I saw you in the movie theater the other day,' she says, and it takes him ten seconds not to comment he hasn't been anywhere near a movie theater for weeks and weeks now and after that another five to quietly talk himself into assuming the 'you' refers to them all - Bucky and Dugan and Jones and Morita and Falsworth and Dernier, good men, all, and friends.
There's something unreal about this still, worse than when he was what Colonel Philips has called 'a dancing monkey' and a nameless soldier has called a 'chorus girl'. Steve doesn't think he'll ever be comfortable being worshiped as a hero by complete strangers, being adored for doing what everyone in his place would have done.
'oh,' he says, because he can't think of anything else to say. He's not some actor in a movie, to ask a pretty girl how she liked his role - Captain America is who he is, now, even if he's also Steve Rogers, still and always and above all else, who got beaten up a lot as a kid and got sick after his best friend made him ride the Cyclone on Coney Island, after treating him to lunch.
'tell me, how did you get my picture?' she asks, sounding amused, like he might make her laugh if only he can figure out the right thing to say.
'I asked Colonel Philips,' Steve says, and this is mostly true.
('enough room to put a picture in there', Stark told him, after a brief and succinct explanation as to why he was making Steve and his men new uniforms, new weapons, new weapons, new rations and new everything-except-compasses, and Steve had thought of whose face he'd most like to see when looking for the right direction, trying not to get lost. With Bucky being right there, it wasn't a hard choice to make.)
She looks thoughtful, and Steve wonders if this will be the third time he'll be informed by someone who ought to know that he doesn't know anything about women.
'sorry,' he says, because there are pictures of him out there holding someone's baby, smiling like he means it (he mostly did) but Peggy's never dressed up in tights and taken to the stage like a show girl. 'I should have asked you first.'
'it's fine,' she tells him, sounding like she's thought about her answer. 'it's fine, Steve.'
She doesn't say she doesn't care. He hopes perhaps this means she does.
- and back where you started, to do it all over again.
' - on your toes,' Steve says, and she lightly, deliberately steps on his.
Two minutes past eight at the Stork Club, and the band is playing something slow, something easy, and Peggy has never thought of herself as a slow and easy woman before, but she supposes it'll be all right, for these few moments, with only Steve there to see.
'you won't,' she tells him, because even if he's not that small, scrawny, skinny kid from Brooklyn anymore, he's still Steve, and at home in his own body. 'you're doing fine, Steve.'
There are other people, possibly people they know. People who know Steve and her in return, and better than to interrupt, to intrude.
'look at me' she tells him, and he does, eyes too wide and a little bit wild. One war's been won, but another has a way to go yet, and Steve's already lost his best friend, and these are the things you need to forget, sometimes, just for a little while, in order to survive.
Steve's a hero, much more so than he is a survivor. 'you're beautiful,' Steve says.
'less of the sweet talking, more with the moving your feet, Captain,' she says, making her tone stern and teasing and light and serious. She'll never be the girl who loves Captain America, but she knows she will very probably be the woman who loves Steve Rogers, who will never again (and yet always) be just an ordinary kid from Brooklyn.
He doesn't salute. He's holding her hands, or possibly she's holding his. 'yes, ma'am.'
The band moves on to something a little bit faster and the two of them move along, as easy as breathing and falling in love. Neither of them tires easily, but halfway the second song, they're both a bit breathless.
'would you like to go somewhere for fondue tomorrow evening?' she asks, when he's sat her down and she's fetched them a drink, because nobody ever feels the slightest need to give a lady any trouble about ordering a drink that doesn't have any alcohol in it, and she's here to dance with Steve, not to watch him not start a fight.
'just bread and cheese, right?' Steve says, and then 'I'd love to,'a which is, by any definition of the term, the right answer.