Chapter Text
Steve Rogers has always loved a night in with his sketchbook, soft music, a crackling fire and a steaming hot chocolate. Peggy often fondly teases him for being too predictable, although lately the teasing has become less fond and more irritated. ‘Steve you’re stuck inside on this beautiful day,’, ‘Steve, you’re glued to that damned couch again,’ or ‘Steve, you’ve gotten so bloody boring !’. But Steve has gone a little wild tonight and spiked his mug with a shot of baileys. So ha! The joke is on Peggy.
Peggy takes this thought as her queue to appear as if by magic.
‘Steve, you’re not even ready!’ She exclaims, sliding into the room on stockinged feet and fluffing her ever perfectly curled hair.
‘For what Pegs?’ Steve is watching her - it's impossible not to watch Peggy, she steals all the focus from a room with her soft curves, sharp jawline and overwhelming sense of presence - as her expression morphs from exasperated to livid. Steve's heart sinks as he realises he's fucked up. Again .
‘Steve, you can’t be serious!’ and as she hooks her red bell earrings in, Steve rushes to calculate his error. Those are Peggy’s favourite christmas earrings, she’s dressed to the nines, it’s a Thursday, so it’s unlikely to be a casual catch up or a club night. Christmas… Thursday… Fancy… oh shit.
‘No, right, the Christmas party! I didn't forget!’ Steve jumps up from his spot on the couch and spills his cocoa in the process, ‘Shit, shit, shit!'
‘Shit is right Steve, you have about two minutes to get into your suit before the car is here to pick us up!'
And Steve is a dead man, because his suit is still at the dry cleaners, which Pegs had sent him two reminder text messages about yesterday. And he is extra, extra dead (eviscerated with a spoon type dead) because Peggy has clocked the slip up from his expression and her face is shutting down.
‘You cannot be serious,’ Peggy says again, and this time it holds real malice. ‘Steve, what the fuck!’
Peggy so rarely uses profanity, Steve is ready to jump headfirst into the fireplace just to avoid this.
‘Give me five minutes Peg,’ at the further narrowing of her eyes he corrects himself ‘two minutes, Peg, my grey suit is in the closet, it’s ready to wear I swear.’ It isn’t though. Steve knows it and Peggy knows it, the grey one doesn't even fit him any more. The surprise growth spurt he'd had at twenty five had given him an extra inch in his legs and two across the shoulders (who has a growth spurt at twenty five? What grown man only has two suits? What is his life?)
Steve hears the chirp from Peggy’s phone app and knows the car is already downstairs.
‘I’m not waiting for you Steve,’ Peggy says, and even scarier than the anger is the disappointment. She looks and sounds resigned now, ‘I’m done waiting for you.’
‘Pegs, don’t be like that, I can fix this!’ Steve pleads, because this is not a disaster, this is a stupid Christmas party for fucks sake.
‘How? What will you wear, your jeans? It's Black tie, Steve!’
‘I can wear my fat Santa Christmas sweater! Tony will laugh, it will be fine!’ It probably would be perfect, Tony Stark may be a billionaire but he’s a sucker for an ugly Christmas sweater.
‘I’m so sick of having this same argument with you Steve, every day,’ Peggy is dashing about the apartment, throwing things into her clutch purse and fuming in his direction.
‘Not the same argument,’ Steve responds petulantly. Which he knows is a mistake as soon as the words are spoken.
‘Jesus Christ, Steve,' Peggy swears, holding her forehead in her fingertips. 'I hate this. I hate being this person.' And she’s finally stopped moving to stand in the doorway of their open plan living, dining, kitchen, to take a deep breath. Maybe it won’t be a big deal. Maybe she can just go without him this year. He takes a step over to her with his hand out in truce.
'I'm sorry, Peggy, I am, but it's just a party,' Steve goes to touch her and she pulls back sharply.
'Its my career Steve, this is my work. Our work, and you don't care enough about any of it to make a fucking effort.' she spits, backing away. Which is terrible, god, why is she always so mad.
'I do care, I love you!' Steve tries to reach out but Peggy shakes her head and walks backwards to the door, slipping her heels on when she gets there.
'It’s not enough, Steve. I've been watching you stop caring for years and I can't do it anymore. I won't.' Peggy's phone chirps again and she curses at it under her breath. 'I have to go.' she grabs the keys from the hook by the door and clutches them in her palm.
'Can we talk about it when you get home?' Steve begs, desperate to get her to just calm down. Forgive him again for being so hopeless - she used to think it was charming!
'No,' Peggy shakes her head, 'I'm not coming home.' The door shuts behind her with a resounding crack and he's left staring at the empty space of their foyer.
True to her word Peggy is out of the apartment and moved into a hotel by the next day.
It’s the first Christmas he's spent alone since his mother died. He cries for a week.