[ Peggy Carter, in all honesty, hadn't been expecting anything for her birthday β it's not that she's forgotten, or hasn't kept track of the days, but she's never been one for much fuss and she's never quite celebrated it since before the war. The last time there was any sort of to-do, it was the spring of 1940, she was being courted by Fred Wells, and her brother was still alive. After? Muddy fields, trenches, masquerading as a civilian in occupied France, maybe a sip of smuggled bourbon shared amongst the Commandos two weeks after the fact. Nothing special.
So it both is and isn't a wonder that Steve manages to surprise her with this. She's a spy, for God's sake! But she hadn't suspected a thing; an invitation to dinner, he'd said, and she'd taken his word for it. She'd come home to their apartment dressed for it in a purplebeaded number with a question of Are you ready to go? on her lips β and found their sitting room full of friends. It's a small miracle she doesn't whip her gun out of her handbag, bloody hell. She doesn't jump but she does swear out loud before dissolving into laughter. After the initial shock, it's clear she's immensely touched by all of it, the attention to detail, the intimacy of it all, that Steve had managed to gather some of the people she's held near and dear since arriving on this planet. And after sweeping in to give him a kiss β not quite chaste, but polite enough given present company, thanks β for his troubles, she gladly joins in the festivities. Maybe you approach her right after, while she's still buzzing from the surprise of it all.
Maybe you catch her sitting on the edge of her own coffee table, plate loaded up with food and a glass of wine perched precariously at her side. She is definitely talking with her mouth full β probably about the framed sketches on the walls or the shield in the corner, if you ask nicely. But if you want to play with it, she may just defer to Captain Rogers on that front.
Maybe she's hovering in the kitchen, unearthing the bottle of whiskey she keeps in a cupboard and helping herself to it before sharing with the others. She's more than content to lean against the counter and sip on her glass and be drawn into conversation or just look around the room, a helplessly happy sort of smile on her lips. It's an expression she rarely wears these days, but it speaks volumes to what this means to her.
Or maybe, just maybe, she's switching out the music on their record player for something a little more upbeat like it's an invitation for people to dance in the bit of space they do have. She just might do it herself, swaying absently to the rhythm. It's a slice of normalcy that feels utterly foreign after all the chaos sprung on them β no one in this room has remained unscathed β but this might just be the breath of fresh air they need before diving back in.
And Peggy will personally thank each and every person for coming with the most heartfelt sincerity. ]
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So it both is and isn't a wonder that Steve manages to surprise her with this. She's a spy, for God's sake! But she hadn't suspected a thing; an invitation to dinner, he'd said, and she'd taken his word for it. She'd come home to their apartment dressed for it in a purple beaded number with a question of Are you ready to go? on her lips β and found their sitting room full of friends. It's a small miracle she doesn't whip her gun out of her handbag, bloody hell. She doesn't jump but she does swear out loud before dissolving into laughter. After the initial shock, it's clear she's immensely touched by all of it, the attention to detail, the intimacy of it all, that Steve had managed to gather some of the people she's held near and dear since arriving on this planet. And after sweeping in to give him a kiss β not quite chaste, but polite enough given present company, thanks β for his troubles, she gladly joins in the festivities. Maybe you approach her right after, while she's still buzzing from the surprise of it all.
Maybe you catch her sitting on the edge of her own coffee table, plate loaded up with food and a glass of wine perched precariously at her side. She is definitely talking with her mouth full β probably about the framed sketches on the walls or the shield in the corner, if you ask nicely. But if you want to play with it, she may just defer to Captain Rogers on that front.
Maybe she's hovering in the kitchen, unearthing the bottle of whiskey she keeps in a cupboard and helping herself to it before sharing with the others. She's more than content to lean against the counter and sip on her glass and be drawn into conversation or just look around the room, a helplessly happy sort of smile on her lips. It's an expression she rarely wears these days, but it speaks volumes to what this means to her.
Or maybe, just maybe, she's switching out the music on their record player for something a little more upbeat like it's an invitation for people to dance in the bit of space they do have. She just might do it herself, swaying absently to the rhythm. It's a slice of normalcy that feels utterly foreign after all the chaos sprung on them β no one in this room has remained unscathed β but this might just be the breath of fresh air they need before diving back in.
And Peggy will personally thank each and every person for coming with the most heartfelt sincerity. ]