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A Full Life	By : DrunkenScotsman Category: Marvel Verse Movies > Captain America Views: 5524 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Captain America or any of the characters in this story; Marvel does. I do not make any money from this story.

Chapter List
- 6
- 7
Chapter 7: Snow Day
-January 1953

One of the unsung advances of the twenty-first century, Steve mused as he peered out his window at a uniform blanket of white, covering everything, is the weather reporting. He brought a steaming cup of coffee to his lips – not sipping yet, as the liquid remained too hot, but instead basking in the heat radiating from the mug. Forecasts accurate out to a week. Up-to-the-minute updates. He chuckled and shook his head. They don’t know how good they’ll have it.
Peggy sidled up beside him, nursing a steaming cup of her own. ‘Looks like the blizzard left more than the weatherman predicted,’ she remarked. ‘At least I closed out a number of case files yesterday before the mad dash out the door.’
Steve nodded. “I’m glad you didn’t get stuck at the office. Or worse, on the road.”
‘Worrywart,’ his wife teased, bumping his hips with hers, and Steve grinned at her playful, affectionate gesture.
Married life with Peggy had, so far, been as wondrous as he’d always imagined, if not more. Over the last six months, they’d worked out household chore distribution around their respective work schedules – his at the Herald-Tribune, hers at the recently-formed SHIELD – which occasionally kept odd hours; they’d slowly but surely integrated their meal preferences; and they otherwise learned, after years living singly, to share a space. They made time for each other, sometimes at the dinner table, sometimes on dates to dance halls, sometimes sitting on the sofa listening to the radio together, and sometimes in the bedroom.
Peggy had surprised Steve with her enthusiasm in that department, especially after her initial shyness. They made love, on average, once a week, and she initiated about as often as he did. They’d kept things simple, alternating who was on top, especially after experiments with lying face-to-face on their sides and with spooning had both ended in frustration; and so far, they’d only used the bedroom.
By now, Steve had learned, like a true tactician, where to focus his efforts for whatever situation he found himself in. If they had limited time, or Peggy felt particularly eager, Steve kissed around the base of her neck while toying with her nipples until she practically begged him to take her. For more leisurely sessions, they kissed and caressed each other freely, with the tipping point usually occurring when Steve had one of Peggy’s nipples in his mouth and two fingers inside her, often with her hand pulling plaintively on his manhood. When they could plan for lovemaking, Peggy used her diaphragm; for more spontaneous sessions, Steve used a rubber.
‘Did you finish the week’s cartoons?’ asked Peggy, pulling Steve from his reverie.
“Just barely,” he admitted. “Thank goodness the power didn’t go out at the office.”
‘Thank goodness it hasn’t gone out here,’ his wife added.
Steve sipped his drink, and Peggy did likewise. They stood for a while like that, silently drinking their hot drinks, letting the warm liquid brace them against the cold day. All around their home, as far as they could see (from this particular window), the whole world appeared as an endless blanket of white.
‘One could almost believe we were the last man and woman alive,’ mused Peggy, her voice soft, as if unwilling to break the silence.
Steve fought the frown. “Reminds me a little too much of how things were,” he replied, “after we failed to stop Thanos.”
‘Does it still bother you?’ asked his wife, who slipped an arm around his.
Steve swallowed the last bitter dregs of his coffee. “Sometimes.” He shook his head and amended, “A lot. I keep going over everything – Bucky, Tony, Sam, Natasha, Thanos, you, the universe – trying to figure out where I screwed everything up. Or whether I deserve this.” He looked at her indicatively.
Peggy hummed. They’d had this conversation before – several times over the last six months, and the first one had been their first real argument. Now, at least, she’d seemingly moved beyond feeling hurt that he would continue to question whether coming back into her life had been a good idea, for either of them. ‘Don’t let’s dwell on that today, darling. Rather,’ she suggested, ‘let’s enjoy our unscheduled day off together, since they don’t come round often.’

*****

A few hours later, Steve and Peggy, bundled up in their warmest wool coats and hats and gloves and scarves, paused, panting for breath, and admired their handiwork thus far. A large, roughly spheroid clump of snow now sat in their front yard, as big around as the trunk of the young elm tree in the backyard. Gathering up this much had only used a fraction of the snow in the front yard; Steve estimated they could easily double this snowball’s size, if they wanted, and still not expose any of the ground where they gathered.
‘Six inches, unless I miss my guess,’ Peggy remarked.
“Maybe seven,” Steve agreed. He turned to his wife, catching her dark eyes through the steam of her breath. “You’ve really never done this before?”
‘I’ve never had enough to work with before,’ she explained. ‘Next, we roll another, and stack it atop this one?’
Steve grinned. “And after that, a third to go on top, each smaller than the last. Ready?”
Peggy laughed. ‘You and Bucky used to do this as children?’
“It was great fun,” replied Steve fondly. “We also used to throw snowballs at each other.” He stooped to begin rolling the next segment of snowman.
Peggy laughed again. ‘It feels a bit childish, but it’s just the sort of silly fun I think I’ve needed to unwind.’
They let the conversation hang on that point for a bit, focusing on their work.
Steve set the second snowball, now complete, atop the first. “You’ve been under a lot of stress lately, that’s for sure,” he observed.
‘Converting the SSR into a new agency capable of detecting global threats has proven no mean feat, as I predicted to deaf ears,’ Peggy groused. ‘But what do I know? I’m just a woman, after all.’
Steve couldn’t help but chuckle. “I can’t believe they still aren’t taking you seriously, after all these years and cases.” He paused before making an offer he knew his wife would refuse: “Do you want me to…?”
‘No,’ she refused, as he’d predicted, her tone curt.
Steve nodded. Peggy preferred to stand on her own regarding her work, for good reason. He’d heard the Captain America Show on the radio when he’d first returned, and he’d seen the way its treatment of Betty Carver, the girlfriend and damsel-in-distress par excellence, rankled Peggy to no end. It rankled him, too, and he’d sworn to himself not to throw his proverbial weight around and thus leave people with the idea that Peggy only made it anywhere because she was Captain America’s girlfriend/wife.
None of that stopped him from wanting to help, though. He hated sitting idly by while the woman he loved and admired received far less respect than he thought she deserved.
Their biggest fight as a married couple had happened when Steve had pushed too hard in favor of intervening, despite Peggy’s insistence on handling the matter herself. It hadn’t lasted long; but Steve hated every minute of feeling that rift between them, and he knew Peggy did too. Steve didn’t back down from fights as a rule, nor did his wife.
He’d learned from the intensely unpleasant experience of sleeping on the couch that choosing one’s battles applied to marriage as much as anything he’d ever done in the Army or as an Avenger.
They’d settled on this compromise: Steve would offer, and Peggy would refuse. He could show his support for her while allowing her sufficient independence.
As they placed the snowman’s head, a bolt of inspiration struck Steve, and he wondered why he hadn’t thought of it before: “What about Daniel?”
Peggy shot her husband an odd look. ‘How do you mean?’
“What’s his view on this transition, and your overall treatment?”
‘I don’t know how he feels about the former,’ Peggy answered in a thoughtful tone. ‘We haven’t spoken much since his transfer back out west last year. I do know he’s always been in my corner regarding the latter, however.’ Her dark eyes glittered playfully. ‘Are you suggesting I wield my feminine wiles to gain a powerful ally?’
Steve laughed. “Not exactly, but I thought having some backup from a friend inside the organization might help when you raise your concerns.”
His wife reached over to squeeze his hand. ‘I’ll ring his office first thing when I return to work.’ She regarded the snowman. ‘I’ve been considering applying for a promotion.’
“Away from field work?” asked Steve in surprise. “You love field work.”
Peggy nodded. ‘It’s rather complicated, and, erm, it’s a conversation I’d rather have indoors with a warm mug of cocoa in hand.’
Steve’s brow furrowed as he regarded his wife’s opaque expression. “Curiouser and curiouser. Well, we can’t leave our snowman unfinished. I’ll look for some branches for the arms, while you find some rocks or something for the eyes.” He winked. “I want him to have dark eyes like his mother.”
For a brief moment, he could’ve sworn those dark eyes widened in shock, but they rolled in exasperation. ‘Honestly,’ she muttered as she pulled her hand away. ‘We’re not naming him Steve Junior, by the way,’ she called over her shoulder as she began her investigation.
Steve chuckled to himself, but that brief moment of surprise in Peggy’s eyes had his brain churning the rest of the time they worked on their snowman.

*****

Later that evening, the Rogerses sat on the sofa side by side, a thick woolen blanket across their adjacent laps. The fireplace crackled with warmth across the room and bathed the whole living room in a flickering, inviting orange glow. Each of the couple held an empty mug, still warm from the hot cocoa they’d just finished.
Peggy switched off the radio as the news broadcast signed off for the night and snuggled closer to her husband, resting her head on his broad shoulders. Steve draped his arm around her, savoring this moment of closeness without external pressures or distractions, the type of moment they had all too seldom lately. He knew she was savoring it too, while also gathering her nerve for the coming conversation.
With a deep breath, Peggy breached the silence. ‘I’m sure you’ve been wondering about what I said earlier.’
“Yeah. I know what your field work means to you, Peg. If – no, when you get that promotion, you’ll be stuck behind a desk all day, every day,” he observed.
Peggy laughed at his self-correction. ‘My hours would be more predictable, though,’ she pointed out. ‘No more unexpected overnights out-of-town, and more time at home with my darling husband, who has such unwavering confidence in me.’
Steve grinned and stroked her shoulder. “That certainly has its appeal.”
‘There’s also the salary increase.’
“You’ve more than earned that, in my admittedly-biased opinion.”
Peggy laughed again. ‘I’ll say. The aches and scars I’ve accumulated over the years attest to that.’ She sighed. ‘Another reason to move on from field work – I’m no spring chicken anymore. I can’t keep this pace forever.’
Steve mulled that over. He thought of Clint, who always complained about how often he had to patch himself up after Avengers missions. “I won’t deny that I’ll be glad if you come home needing an ice pack less often.”
Peggy set her long-empty mug on the low table in front of the sofa. ‘Last, but far from least,’ she began, her voice soft and strange in Steve’s ears. ‘On the topic of age… I was already past thirty when we wed. If we’re to, erm, start a family… we’d best begin soon, don’t you think, darling?’
Steve’s heart leapt into his throat as the full extent of Peggy’s thought process snapped into focus. “Peg… I wasn’t sure if you’d want children. Career women these days don’t often have families.”
Peggy ran a hand over Steve’s chest. ‘Someone has to blaze a trail,’ she replied in a playful tone. ‘That other Peggy Carter managed it, didn’t she? Knowing I’ve done it before, I’m confident I can do it again.’
Steve’s head spun a bit as Peggy conflated herself with her other self. He shook his head to clear it of the spiraling snarl of time travel and multiple universes, though he soon began puzzling out the logistics of life with a child: How would they each continue their jobs? How would they divide childcare? What approach would they take to discipline?
Shaking his head again, Steve idly ran his hand through his wife’s hair to ground him in this moment, here, with her.
Peggy laughed lightly and nuzzled her husband’s neck, peppering it with kisses. ‘I felt you tense up, Steve. Already formulating battle plans for fatherhood?’ she teased.
Steve grinned; she knew him too well, sometimes. “I was, until someone decided to distract me,” he replied, running his hands over Peggy’s curves.
For most of his life, Steve Rogers thought that he would never have children. At first, it was his physique – who could possibly have wanted to marry that skinny kid from Brooklyn? Next, it was the war – precious little time to pursue the woman of his dreams when there were Nazis to punch. Then, it was the ice – he’d tried, and ultimately failed, to make a life for himself in the twenty-first century, too dedicated to the Avengers to make time, or space in his heart, for another attempt at finding someone.
But now, here he sat, with the love of his life in his arms, and she wanted to have children. With him.
Steve wrapped Peggy in his arms and held her close. His heart felt full. In some ways, he never wanted this moment to end.
“I love you, Peg,” he whispered, his voice hoarse.
‘I love you too, Steve,’ his wife replied in a husky tone that never failed to get Steve’s motor running.
To his surprise, Peggy climbed atop him and straddled his lap. He could feel the heat of her need through her underwear and his pajamas and underwear. She moaned softly and kissed her husband again, this time with barely-restrained hunger.
Once the surprise subsided, Steve kneaded his wife’s shapely rump, which encouraged her to grind against his stiffened manhood deliciously. “Down here?” he asked between kisses. “On the couch?”
‘I’ve always thought it’d be romantic to make love by firelight,’ explained Peggy with a giggle, sounding more girlish than Steve could remember her sounding. ‘This seems like the perfect opportunity, don’t you think?’
Steve grinned and kissed his wife’s neck, earning a soft mewl of pleasure when he reached the juncture where neck became shoulder. The more she wriggled in his lap, the harder he found it to proceed slowly. “I thought you wanted ‘romantic,’ Peg,” he observed.
‘I do,’ she insisted. ‘I’m also rather excited for this,’ she added, along with a long, impassioned kiss on the lips.
The couple continued kissing and caressing for several minutes, until each had the other beside themselves with desire. With some finagling, they managed to free Steve’s manhood and remove Peggy’s panties without tangling themselves in the blankets, which were now even more vital to fend off the cold. Steve held his wife’s nightgown around her waist to enable her to maneuver, and she held him steady as she worked his length into her soaked sex. A soft, plaintive moan escaped her once she’d lowered herself fully, enveloping him to the hilt inside her wet warmth.
Peggy smiled at her husband. Gasps of pleasure escaped her with each downward thrust of her hips. Her dark eyes shone coppery in the firelight, and her fair skin seemed aglow with orange and yellow from the hearth.
To Steve, she’d never looked so beautiful.
The couple resumed kissing, their tongues tangling as though they hadn’t seen one another in years – as though, at any moment, one of them might be reduced to dust or frozen in time for seven decades. By contrast, the languid rolling of Peggy’s hips as she worked herself up and down her husband’s length belied any urgency, as though they had all the time in the world – as if they both could do this all day.
Steve gripped his wife’s rump again, savoring the feeling of the muscles flexing and relaxing with her movements. This position, with her astride his lap, felt incredibly sexy and intimate all at once. Steve fought the urge to thrust his own hips; he didn’t want to rush something that Peggy had fantasized about for so long.
‘I think I’ve discovered my new favorite position,’ Peggy murmured between kisses.
“Everything you wanted from making love by firelight?” Steve asked, letting his hands roam a little.
Peggy nodded. ‘More,’ she affirmed, or pleaded, breathlessly as her hips sped up.
Gripping her rear once more, Steve pushed and pulled, adding the slightest bit of force to each up-and-down cycle. Peggy buried her face into her husband’s neck, just in time to stifle a lengthy moan. He kissed her neck, feeling through his lips the vibration of each subsequent vocalization, however muffled.
Peggy’s hips quickened their pace and grew increasingly insistent. Loud, wet noises emanated from their conjoined laps, eclipsing the crackle of the fireplace. Steve could feel himself slipping away, into the white haze of delectable building tension that heralded his own completion.
Peggy cried her husband’s name, plaintive, soft but laced with urgency. Her back arched, and she shuddered all over. She repeated her cry, more plaintive, more urgent, and shuddered again. A third time, she cried out, this time gripping the couch cushion just to remain upright.
The third cry finished Steve. He replied to her cries of his name with his own utterances of hers. Pulse after pulse of purest pleasure permeated him, propagating from his groin and reaching, it seemed, every goosebump on his body.
The spent spouses held each other for a long time, basking in both afterglow and hearthfire’s warmth. Steve could feel, as he stroked his wife’s back, each of her unsteady breaths under his hands, the thud of each heartbeat. Her hands in turn trailed lazily over his broad shoulders.
Peggy’s contented sigh broke the silence. ‘That was lovely. Better than I’d imagined. Thank you for indulging me, darling.’
“We should probably get cleaned up, before we ruin the sofa’s upholstery,” suggested Steve with his typical practicality.
On impulse, though, he stood and hefted his wife into the bridal carry position, earning a surprised, delighted yelp. He carried Peggy to the linen closet and let her blot herself with a cloth. Once she’d finished, he set her down, where she surprised him by stroking his manhood with the cloth, and he found himself stirring at her ministrations.
‘Again so soon? For shame, darling,’ Peggy teased.
Steve grinned and cupped Peggy’s generous breasts through her nightgown, eliciting a soft moan. “We’re trying for a baby now, Peg. You know I don’t like leaving a job unfinished.”
Peggy bit her lip at Steve’s increasingly-insistent fondling, her eyes drifting shut as he teased her nipples. ‘On the bed this time, at least,’ she insisted, her voice quivering with desire.
“Fine by me,” Steve agreed, hefting her into his arms once again. “With any luck, that snowman outside won’t be the only thing we make together today.”
_______________________________________________________________
A/N: Sorry for the wait, dear readers. I'd intended to have this written and posted back in January, or by Valentine's Day at the latest, but my job has been extremely busy lately. I also don't know when the next update will come, as I've recently started a new story. My current plan is to alternate between this story and the new one; each promises to be something of a long-running slow burn, so I think/hope that switching between them will keep each one fresh.
The commentary at the beginning about the weather forecasting came from a program I heard on the radio, where the chief meteorologists in my area all discussed the major advances in the field since their careers began in the 80's. It was surprisingly fascinating and, I thought, a good example of one of the little conveniences of our lives that most of us don't think about, but would stand in stark contrast to someone (like Steve) who lived in our time but returned to the 50's.
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A Full Life